Terror
by MMB
Summary: When Miss Parker is attacked, she turns to Sydney for help and Jarod pitches in. Caution: deals with rape


Title: Terror  
Author: MMB  
Rating: R for language and adult themes  
Spoilers: Yes  
Timeline: After IOTH  
Keywords: MPSF, MPJF, rape  
Summary: When Miss Parker is attacked, she turns to Sydney for help - and Jarod pitches in.  
Disclaimer: They aren't mine. I'm just borrowing them for a bit. Please don't kill me...  
  
  
Terror  
by MMB  
  
Miss Parker never had a chance to defend herself.  
  
The two intruders burst into her bedroom and had her pinned down and helpless long before her brain had a chance to come awake, and then they had put that cloth with chloroform over her mouth and nose. The next thing she could remember clearly, she had awakened in a snow bank what must have been hours later, freezing, confused, terrorized, and in mind-numbing agony inside and out. She was clad in only the silken pajamas she had worn to bed, although they were now torn and dirty and in no condition to do much more than protect her from a charge of public indecency. The midwinter night was freezing, and heavy flakes of snow were beginning to fall; if she didn't find some shelter and/or help soon, her tattered silk pajamas would become her burial shroud in a snow bank.  
  
Extricating herself from the tangle of branches and brambles and snow into which she'd evidently been tossed like so much trash took longer than Miss Parker thought it would, mostly because the act of moving hurt immensely. She brushed her tangled hair back out of her face so she could see better, shivering even more violently as the action sent a soft packet of snow down the back of her flimsy blouse. She stared in shock and confusion around her in the gloom of the moonlit night, hoping beyond hope that she'd see a landmark that would help her get her bearings. Going to one of the doors of the houses around her in her current state and pounding on it to summon help was her next move, but then she caught sight of a shape that looked suspiciously like one of Sydney's topiary bushes in front of his house. She sagged down with hands on both knees in relief as she realized that her attackers, whoever they had been, had either deliberately or coincidentally dumped her out practically in the front yard of her mother's old friend.  
  
Making her way across the street with a left leg that only barely held her weight and bare feet that stumbled numbly over every frozen pebble, she was nearly hysterical as she mounted the front steps to the porch and began punching at the doorbell and pounding on the door. It seemed to take forever, but finally the door flew open and Miss Parker allowed her nearly-frozen body to tumble through the warm opening and fall heavily into the stunned arms of the sleepy older man behind it.   
  
"Parker?!? My God - Parker!!! What hap..." Sydney quickly slammed the door shut on the frosty night and then whisked her quaking, frozen body up into his arms and, after thinking for a moment, carried her as fast as he could back into the darkness of his warm house, up the stairs. Heading directly to his own bedroom, he laid her down gently in his own bed, from which he had arisen only moments earlier, and pulled the already toasty electric blanket over her after adjusting the control to a much higher setting. He grimaced at the thought of the injuries he was ignoring for the moment in favor of getting her body heat back to normal before she got seriously ill, but knew dealing with the hypothermia had to be his first priority. Quickly he reached for a tissue to wipe blood from one of his hands, his doctor's instincts drawn immediately to the fact that her face was almost transparent in its pallor beneath the trickles of blood and smudges of grime.   
  
Her eyes were closed, and she hadn't uttered a single coherent word to him, and Sydney was worried. Very worried. "Miss Parker?" he brushed the damp, tangled hair out of her face with a tender hand, his stomach almost roiling with nausea at the evidence before his eyes as well as his suspicions. "Can you tell me what happened?"  
  
Slowly she began shaking her head without opening her eyes, and the gesture of denial grew in speed and vehemence, and tears began to trickle onto her cheeks as she squeezed her eyes closed in an effort to not think about anything. She held herself tightly together without taking a breath until she finally couldn't help letting loose with a shivering, sobbing pant and a whimpered "God!"  
  
"I need to get you to a hospital," Sydney said anxiously, as much to himself as to her. The injuries to her face made him even more concerned about what else could have been done to her that was hidden beneath the blankets from which the blood he'd wiped away had come.   
  
That brought Miss Parker back to awareness - her grey eyes suddenly opened completely, filled with a terror the older psychiatrist had never before seen in his otherwise independent and capable colleague. "NO!" she fairly screamed at him, clutching the covers up tightly beneath her chin. "No hospitals! No police!" The last was uttered in a dread-filled and shiver-broken whisper. Those huge grey eyes quickly filled with tears. "Please, Sydney," she addressed him directly at last with the voice of a traumatized child, "please... Help me..."   
  
He moved quickly to sit down next to her on the bed, but froze when he saw her flinch as if afraid of being hit. "Parker," he began carefully, deciding to kneel next to her instead and from now on make his movements deliberate and slower so as not to startle or frighten, "I'm not equipped to take care of your injuries here. You need professional care..."  
  
"But I trust YOU, Sydney," she whispered in utter vulnerability, even as the expression in her eyes was growing more distant and shock-y by the moment. Trust. It was the one trump card that Parker could pull on him in such an extreme situation against which he had no defense. He knew that her trust was a very precious commodity - one she rarely demonstrated even existed in her vocabulary in the best of times, much less demonstrated towards another human being in times of stress or crisis.   
  
Sydney sighed in acquiescence, at least for the moment, then reached out slowly and cupped her trembling chin gently in his hand. "Then I need to know..." he began carefully. "What happened?"  
  
Miss Parker squeezed her eyes tightly shut again, her chest tightening on top of the continued shivering, and her mouth gathered into a small, pinched slit. She sorted through the many places and ways in which she was in agony and found her mind simply refusing to cooperate in either remembering or considering how she had come to be in that condition. Sydney's warm hand continued to cup her face while a gentle thumb stroked her cheek. She knew he was seeking to comfort her against the memories he was presuming were causing her anguish, only... "I can't..." she said finally, feeling as if it were to admit a great defeat. "I think they... they drugged me... broke into my house while I was asleep..." She took a deep breath, grimacing in pain as she did. "I don't think I know what all they did - all I know is that I hurt everywhere."  
  
"Do you know... did they..." Sydney's voice got very tight, very controlled, very soft and gentle. "Parker, did they ..." He couldn't bring himself to say it. He didn't need to.  
  
Her mind rebelled at his nearly voicing the one thought that she was struggling so hard to avoid, and yet the way her body was screaming at her from her lower quadrant affirmed undeniably what Sydney had suspected. Rather than answer and expose openly the depths of her humiliation, she turned away from him and began curling herself up into a fetal ball, still shivering despite the heat of the blanket on top of her.   
  
She felt, rather than saw, Sydney's recoil - felt his hand jerk away from her face as if burned. Then she heard the sound of him stomping back and forth at the foot of the bed, breathing hard in an attempt to quell his fury and the very primal urge to go out and mutilate whatever monsters that had done this to her. The logical corner of her mind knew that his actions were only the normal reaction of a friend outraged on her behalf. But that part of her psyche was overpowered by the voices of recrimination that screamed their accusations at her in the stern voice of her father - or, at least, the man who had long claimed her as his daughter.   
  
The loss of Sydney's tender caress on her face transformed itself into an expression of abandonment, condemnation, and dismissal. In her twisted process of self-castigation, his removing himself from her proximity to stomp and snort in anger was merely confirmation that she had committed the unpardonable sin of failing to defend herself. Hadn't her father always warned her that the fate of the weak was to deserve whatever they got?  
  
Sydney's impotent, roiling rage was finally pierced by the sound of low keening - and looking over at his injured guest at last, he finally saw that she was rocking herself mindlessly and crying out, tears streaming down her face. Taking a very firm grip on his emotions to bring them back under his control so he could deal with the situation at hand, Sydney halted in his tracks and came close to the bed again, kneeling down directly in front of her face. He put his arm out in a loose hug, with no obvious response - the rocking and keening continued apace. He began stroking back her hair, whispering shushing sounds at her, with still no response.  
  
Finally, he brought himself up and slowly sat down on the edge of the bed next to her, and felt her once more flinch. He wished he dared respect her wishes not to be touched and found himself banking desperately on her sincerity when she claimed she trusted him. He pulled her head into his lap, leaned over her and wrapped both arms around her shoulders in the closest approximation to a sheltering hug he could manage with her still curled into a fetal position. "You're safe now," he soothed against the tangled hair, rocking with her. "You're going to be alright."   
  
He had no idea how long he sat bent over Miss Parker, her head and shoulders cradled and sheltered on his thigh and in his arms, but finally he felt her stop rocking and eventually begin to uncurl. She took in a deep, obviously agonized breath, then whimpered, "Why, Sydney?" as she stirred feebly in his arms. "Why did they... What did I do?"  
  
"It wasn't you," he soothed at her softly, moving himself back just far enough that she could move as she wished without seeming to remove his embrace from her entirely. "It wasn't you. It wasn't anything you did."   
  
Parker painfully sat herself up just enough so that she could seek a more complete haven in the warm safety of Sydney's arms, a shelter no longer to be spurned but which she was beginning to actually crave. She felt his arms carefully enclose her in response and hold her to him gently, then pull the blanket up over her shoulders again so that its warmth could continue to work its magic. Feeling safe and protected at long last, she nestled her head down on his chest with her arms wrapped tightly around his waist for fear he'd try to leave her again. "Don't be angry with me, Sydney..." she whimpered disconsolately.  
  
Sydney's arms tightened around her instantly. "I'm not angry with you, sweetheart!" The endearment slipped out before he could stop it, warming and encouraging her despite her traumatized condition. It was a sincere and unexpectedly emotional outburst of fondness from a man who up until that moment had consistently respected her wish to avoid any emotionally demonstrative display at all. She felt him lean forward and kiss her forehead softly, another gesture she'd received so many times from her father but never with anything approaching the level of emotion or sincerity behind the kiss that Sydney had just given her. "You've done nothing I should be angry about, Parker." The gentle affirmation was the last straw.  
  
He could feel her struggling against the sobs that were tearing her apart inside, an internal shaking that was separate from and even more debilitating than her shivering from her chill. He leaned down toward her head and whispered into her tangled hair, "It's alright, Parker. Let it go. Let it out. You're safe, and I'm right here. I've got you. Let go." It took only a little more supportive coaxing, but Miss Parker had very little reserve with which to contain the shock and horror of her situation. When the ripping sobs finally tore loose, Sydney's arms merely pulled her even closer into him so that he could murmur soft comfort to her, inviting her to dump her grief and shock even further. He held her for a long time with his own tears of grief and shock running unchecked down his cheeks as the strong woman who had always been fully capable and self-reliant fell completely to pieces in his arms.  
  
Eventually she lay against him, her sobs reduced once more to soft weeping, exhausted and depleted. She lay still for as long as she could; and then the pain of her abused body began to overwhelm her and she began to shift against him in discomfort. Sydney loosened his arms, wiped self-consciously at his face and then tried to move away from her so he could stand and give her room to get comfortable again, only to be held back as Miss Parker's arms tightened around his waist frantically. "No! Sydney! Don't leave me! I'm sorry, I'll stop moving..."  
  
He stopped moving and turned to her again, one arm winding around her shoulders again while the other began smoothing her hair back and helping her look up at him. "Hush... Its OK. I'm not leaving you, Parker. I was just giving you room to get comfortable again. But..." He paused, "...I just think that now that we've got you warmed up again, I need to..." His face reflected his sorrow as he watched her close in psychologically on herself again, and hurried to finish. "If you're not going to let me take you to the hospital or at least call the police, then I need to know what I'm dealing with here... how badly you're hurt..." He couldn't finish, nor did she need him to.  
  
She loosened her death-grip on his waist with a look of abject surrender and began to curl up once more into a small fetal bundle as she anticipated him leaving her again anyway. But Sydney immediately took her hand in his as he moved away and then stood up so that she wouldn't feel completely detached or abandoned again, encouraged when the limited contact prevented her from curling away from him completely again. The physical move away from her had become essential for him emotionally. It allowed him the time to take a deep breath and mentally shift gears to become at least something of a medical and psychological clinician rather than merely a traumatized yet supportive friend. He had to, if he was going to be of any use to her at all.   
  
"I promise I... we... won't try anything you don't want to," he consoled gently. "But I think the first step should be cleaning you up so I can see just exactly where you're hurt. If we were going to report this," he suggested again, and watched her shake her head with frantic vigor. Reluctantly he gave up any hope of convincing her to report her attack. Any attempt to convince her would require a level of emotional force from him - someone she'd turned to for protection after having been physically forced in the most brutal kind of way - that would do more harm than good. "I know, I know - but if we WERE going to report this, we wouldn't bathe you yet so that evidence could be..." He sighed heavily and unhappily. "But since that's not at issue, do you want to try to take a shower, or do you want me to draw you a warm bath and soak for a while, or would you rather I bring you a washrag, or..."  
  
Miss Parker found herself clinging to his hand tightly, even though displaying such weakness and vulnerability made the independent, self-sufficient corner of her mind yowl in protest. She had to force herself to answer, to make a choice, to think. "A bath, I think..." she murmured, closing her eyes and wishing she could just withdraw from life entirely, wishing Sydney would just take charge and do things for her.  
  
"Alright." Sydney's lightly accented voice had become smooth as silk, comforting yet insistent. His other hand smoothed her hair again in a calming gesture. "The problem is that my private bath over there only has a shower stall. The bathtub is down the hall. Do you think you can walk that far?"  
  
These were a series of simple choices, but the psychiatrist in him knew that only through getting her to make simple choices immediately could he hope to give her back the building blocks of a sense of control over her own destiny for later on. It was obvious that she had already reached that dangerous point at which she could easily give up living entirely. Still, when she looked up into his eyes with an overwhelming expression of guilt and defeat and fear, he bent toward her again solicitously. "Look, you don't have to push yourself to prove anything to me, Parker," he soothed. "I won't think any less of you if you can't walk. You just need to tell me what you want. You're in control here."  
  
It was as if giving her permission to be weak helped her find a well-spring of strength she hadn't known existed within her. "No," she whispered again with a small shake of her head. "I think I can make it."  
  
Sydney smiled at her encouragingly. "Good girl." He reached for the control of the electric blanket with his free hand, setting it back down into a more comfortable range for sleeping later, then peeled the toasty blanket away from her body. He put both hands out to her but letting her choose the way in which she was to climb out of the bed, and still letting her cling tightly to the hand she had claimed earlier. With some effort, Miss Parker eventually sat up entirely and moved her legs painfully to hang over the edge of the bed. She looked up at him in trepidation, and reading her thoughts, Sydney comforted, "I won't let you fall, Miss Parker."  
  
"I know," she said softly, a single tear making its way down an ashen cheek. Sydney swallowed back more tears of his own as he stood very still, waiting for her to move. Finally she reached out her other hand and clasped his other hand tightly, saying, "I trust you," and pulled herself to her feet - and found Sydney's promise not to let her fall well-founded as her left leg cramped unexpectedly and agonizingly and simply refused to support her weight.   
  
Catching her carefully beneath the arms before she had done much more than utter a sharp cry and begin to sag, he held onto her gently without either picking her up or setting her back on the bed. "I can put my arm around you and support you if you want, and we can try this again..." he suggested gently.   
  
"I'm sorry," Miss Parker sighed in pain and defeat, "I guess I don't think I can..."  
  
The words had no more than left her lips when Sydney had shifted his hold on her and caught his left arm behind her knees and lifted her into the air. "You don't owe me an apology, Parker," he said calmly as he carried her from the bedroom and down the dark hallway. "Knowing you, I knew you'd have to at least try." He felt her hide her face in his neck and put a desperate arm around his shoulders as he rounded the corner into the darkened bathroom.   
  
He bent and deposited his cargo on the cold plastic of the toilet seat and then, grasping her hand so that she still held onto him as before, stretched backwards towards the light switch. Miss Parker blinked in the glare light of the overhead fixture, and Sydney finally got his first good glimpse at the damage her attackers had wreaked. There were bruises darkening one eye and all about her lower jaw and down the column of her neck. A trickle of dried blood from one corner of her mouth evidenced the force that had been used to hold the stupefying cloth to her face. He took two deep breaths to stomp down another surge of murderous fury at the beasts who had attacked her, knowing the proper time and place for that rage to be expressed was yet to come. The mental and physical well-being of the victim had to be seen to first.  
  
Sydney crouched in front of her, his one hand still holding hers tightly and the other coming up to join it. "I'm going to need both hands to get the bath started, Parker," he stated apologetically. "OK?"  
  
Miss Parker nodded numbly and released her tight grip on his hands, folded her arms tightly around herself and trained her eye on the floor in front of her. Sydney's brow furrowed slightly at the new signs of withdrawal, and he couldn't help but note with alarm that now his left hand and the left sleeve of his robe were liberally stained with fresh blood. Nevertheless, rolling up the sleeves of his robe and pajama top carefully so as not to spread the blood further, he set himself the task of turning on the water, rinsing his hand clean as the water warmed. He stopped the drain when the water was warm enough to counter a severe chill. He reached across the room for the bar of hand soap and let the strong stream of water splatter against it to begin making a poor-man's bubble bath for her.   
  
He turned back to her as the tub filled, and crouched down in front of her again. She was shivering again, already missing the heat of the electric blanket. "Parker? Parker?" he called again until she finally lifted her gaze to meet his. "I know you don't want to go to the police, but I still think we'll need to talk to them eventually. And when we do, they're going to at least want your clothing as evidence. I'm going to go back to my room while you're soaking and get you something to wear instead of these..." his fingers toyed with the bottom hem of her filthy silken pajama blouse. "Will you be OK with that?"  
  
She nodded numbly again and, with shaking, fumbling fingers, began the task of unbuttoning the blouse. When Sydney turned his head and went to rise again to give her some semblance of privacy when the blouse began to gape open revealingly, her hand reached out and clutched desperately at his forearm. "You're not leaving me?"  
  
"No, sweetheart," he soothed, continuing to rise. The endearment, once used, was coming more easily and deliberately, as if something that had too long languished unexpressed now refused to be put away again. "I need to check the water level - and I thought you might like some privacy to undress without being watched. You finish what you're doing. I'll be just over here." He deliberately turned away while he checked the water and turned it off, and then heard the pajama blouse hit the floor.  
  
"I... need..." Miss Parker swallowed hard and reached out impotently for his turned back. "Sydney, can you help....? Can I lean on you?"  
  
Sydney steeled himself, drawing himself emotionally into a tight ball of medical objectivity, then turned to her. It was just as well, for although she had her arms crossed modestly over her chest, the visible bruising on her now exposed arms and upper torso was almost frightening. He moved directly in front of her. "Put your arms around my neck, and I'll pull you up until you're standing. Then you hold on tight, and I'll help you shed the rest of it and get you into the tub."   
  
He kept his eyes carefully trained on her face as she reached out for his neck and then pulled herself painfully to her feet, and then he slipped his fingers inside the elastic of the pajama bottoms and slid them quickly over her hips and dropped them to the floor. "Can you step out of them?" he asked carefully, his hands ready to grasp her waist to help her balance if needed. Slowly, painfully, Miss Parker lifted first one foot and then the other out of the pooled silk, hanging almost her entire weight on his neck when her left leg again cramped and refused to support any of her weight.  
  
"Now, I'm going to pick you up and put you in the tub," he warned gently. "Ready?"  
  
Parker nodded slowly, and Sydney lifted her carefully and gently and set her down in the steaming water, feeling her stiffen in his arms as the warm water hit some of the more damaged spots and then relax. He reached behind her and pulled a soft washcloth from the towel bar and put it in her hand. "When you feel you want to," he urged gently, then turned to retrieve the discarded silken garments from the floor. When he lifted the trousers, the discovery that they were almost completely soaked in blood was like a kick in his gut. He folded the garments carefully and put them on the sink counter, then turned to Miss Parker, who had yet to move.   
  
"Parker, you're bleeding, badly," he said quietly, drawing her gaze to his. "I can help you with the outer stuff, bruises and cuts and abrasions - maybe even a fracture or two. But I'm afraid you're hurt internally, and I don't know what to do for that. I'm not trained... You really need to let someone see you..."  
  
Parker's eyes were nothing but pools of grey-edged black. "Sydney, please, no. I couldn't take being... manhandled... by strangers, or interrogated. I know you won't hurt me..." She closed her eyes and swallowed hard against the dread and panic that was rising inexplicably within her. "I know I'm safe with you... Maybe if I just stay very quiet..."  
  
"Sweetheart, if you're bleeding internally as badly as you are externally, and you don't get it seen to promptly by someone who knows what they're doing - which I do not, in this case - you'll die. You'll bleed to death." Sydney's voice was bleak. "And I don't know that I could survive that." He sighed after making that admission, recognizing the no-win situation she was in, and into which she was pulling him.   
  
He closed his eyes for a second and shook himself mentally to clear away the more distressing thoughts and become deliberately more objective and emotionally distant again. "I think I'd better get you those clothes I mentioned earlier - we talked about this just a few moments ago, remember? Now, I promise I'm not leaving you - just going down the hall for a very few seconds. I'll be back as soon as I can. Will you be OK by yourself for a little bit?"  
  
Parker's eyes widened, and Sydney could tell she wasn't happy at the thought of his actually leaving her alone in the bathroom, but she nodded at him nonetheless. "Don't be long," she said, hating the fact that her voice sounded as if she were begging.  
  
"I won't be. And we'll talk about the other when I get back," Sydney nodded at her, then stepped from the room and closed the door behind him. He leaned back against the door for a moment to clear his mind again, then moved quickly back down the hallway to his bedroom to retrieve the articles of clothing he'd promised. All the time, his mind was spinning, examining options of just how he might talk her into allowing a physician to examine her and care for the injuries she'd sustained.   
  
Taking no time to be picky, he pulled a pair of sweat pants from a drawer and then reached into his closet for a soft cotton button-down dress shirt. As an afterthought, he walked quickly into his private bath and grabbed his hairbrush and comb.  
  
With his burden secured, he began past the bed to the doorway, then stopped. Where Miss Parker had sat and lain in his bed, the bloodstain was huge - much larger than he'd thought it would be. Sighing again as his worry for her health ratcheted up yet another notch, he turned his back on the bed and headed back off down the hall to the bathroom. He knocked on the door softly, heard a splash as if she'd started at the sound, then announced, "It's just me," as he opened the door and re-entered.  
  
Miss Parker had managed, during his absence, to use the washcloth that he'd left her. The dried blood that had hung from the corner of her mouth was now gone, although signs of bruising and swelling would soon mark where it had been. With the smudges of grime gone, there was no mistaking the ghastly pallor of her face nor any further question as to which marks on her neck and shoulders were darkening bruises and which had been merely grime. She shifted with an unhappy look on her face and made the slightly pink water slosh up the sides of the tub. "Sydney, I can't... This is beginning to hurt..."  
  
Sydney put the hairbrush and comb on the counter, hung the clothes he had brought on a nearby clothes hook, then reached out for both of a pair burgundy-colored Turkish towels hanging on a bar. One he opened and used to cover the closed toilet seat and all exposed porcelain so as not to give her a new chill, the other he opened and held in front of him as he bent down to her. "Put your arms around my neck again and hang on tight, Parker. I'll wrap you in this towel as I pull you out of the water."   
  
She grimaced as she moved bruised arms up to do as he instructed, then held on for dear life as he began to straighten with her hanging from his neck. He quickly wrapped the towel around her dripping body to the back, then again caught her behind the knees and finally lifted her completely from the tub and quickly deposited her back on the toilet seat. Her arms didn't loosen immediately from his neck, but clung to him tightly. "I'm... sorry to be so much trouble..."  
  
"Hush...." Sydney soothed, pulling the second towel from the back of the toilet and attempting to cover her bare shoulders with it as he crouched before her once more, making the action into a gentle embrace. "I told you, you don't have to apologize. But right now I need you to let go and put your arms down so I can get you toweled down properly. You can lean your head on me all you want otherwise, if you need to..."  
  
Miss Parker sighed deeply, then released her hold on him as he'd asked, folding her arms over her chest again and leaning into him tiredly as he'd invited her to do. His gentle embrace became gentle patting and stroking along sore arms and down her back as he let the thick and soft towel do the work of soaking up the bath water from her sore body. Then she felt him reach out toward the sink counter. "I thought you might want to get some of the snarls from your hair - or do you want me to do it?"  
  
She leaned harder into him. "You..." she murmured, content to allow him to take charge of at least one part of this process at last.   
  
Sydney took his time and did everything he could to make sure that he worked out the snarls and tangled bristles and twigs from her hair with as little discomfort to her as possible. It was hard to believe that this tangled mess was normally sleek and smooth, and it was almost calming to him as the job neared completion to draw the comb through her tresses without further snags.   
  
Miss Parker had closed her eyes as she lay her head quietly against Sydney's upper chest as she felt him begin to minister to her. The sound of his heart beating steadily beneath her ear, combined with his smooth movements around her and the gentle strokes of the brush on her scalp were calming. She found it temporarily easy to ignore the screams of protest from her abused sense of self-reliance and emotional invulnerability at the very idea of the implied familiarity of the moment. For a short time, she allowed herself to become as a small child again, luxuriating in the care of a beloved parent.   
  
Eventually Sydney's movements ceased, and she felt him reach out to put the brush and comb back on the counter. He then simply enfolded her in his arms as she was wrapped in the towels and gently hold her close for a while, letting her continue to rest peacefully against him for a time. Then... "The sooner we get you dressed, the sooner I can put you back to bed," he said finally, rubbing her back gently as if to awaken her. "Are you ready?"  
  
With reluctance, Miss Parker pushed against him and sat up straighter, her eyes showing him that she was nearing the point of total collapse but willing once more to allow him to push her to action. Sydney reached for the soft, cotton shirt and, peeling only the outer towel away from her arms and shoulders again, helped her slide her arms into the overly-long sleeves and then button the shirt up over the towel to protect her modesty. He quickly rolled both sleeves up so that her hands protruded comfortably from each sleeve, then reached for the sweat pants.  
  
"We're going to put these on the same way we got your pajamas bottoms off to begin with, only in reverse," he announced gently. "First, we'll get them over your feet and ankles and up most of the way, and then you can hang on my neck again to stand while I take the towel away, pull the pants up and tie them on." He watched her mind take in his instructions, and then she nodded. The process went more quickly than either of them expected, each now used to the close proximity of the other and no longer tripping over modesty.   
  
Sydney didn't ask, and Miss Parker didn't protest when he rose to his feet, bent over her and took her up in his arms again. He snagged one of the towels with his hand beneath her knees, and dipped to turn off the bathroom light with the fingers of his other hand on the way out. Miss Parker rested quietly in his arms and lay her head tiredly on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Back in the bedroom, Sydney sat her down on the end of the bed, then quickly spread the towel over the bloodstained sheets before moving her and settling her back down and covering her once more with the warm electric blanket. He sat down beside her and took her hands gently.  
  
"Parker, please. I don't want to distress you, but I just can't.... Look, I know a woman OB/GYN here in town who is totally uninvolved with the Centre. Let me call her and have her take a look at you, here, right away, before you lose much more blood..."  
  
Miss Parker opened her grey eyes and studied, for the first time REALLY studied, the expression in her old friend's eyes. She couldn't help but be pierced by the pain and worry that sat behind the deceptively calm chestnut gaze; and she knew that if she could discern it that easily, he must truly be beside himself with anxiety. The last time she'd seen anything remotely resembling that look in his eyes, he had just caught her when she collapsed with her ulcer the first time. There was no way, after all he'd just done for her, that she could leave him in that much anguish on her behalf. "OK. Call the doctor. Just promise me you won't leave me alone..."  
  
He leaned over her and deposited a soft and caring kiss on her forehead. "I'll be here for as long as you need me." He retrieved one of his hands, and smoothed her hair back. "I'll call the doctor, and you can try to rest until she gets here. So close your eyes and try to sleep a little bit." She closed her eyes, and he stroked her hair gently and repeatedly until Miss Parker's breathing had evened out into a light and restless sleep. Then he retrieved the phone handset and his small Rolodex from the nightstand. He stood, being careful not to awaken Miss Parker, then flipped through the cards as he moved to the easy chair on the other side of the nightstand.   
  
Finding the one he was looking for, he punched the buttons and quickly called his friend - a woman he'd met at a local medical provider's meeting only a few months earlier. After apologizing profusely for disturbing her at such an hour, he related his need. As he'd expected, the doctor had quickly agreed to come to his house to examine Miss Parker privately as soon as possible. Sydney hung up the phone, then untied his robe belt, reached for his clothing from the day before and headed for his private bath, so as to be decently dressed when the doctor arrived.   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"I appreciate your coming over this late," Sydney said as he ushered Sylvia Armant, a tiny grey-haired woman with bright, dark eyes into his living room and closed the door against the cold. He helped her from her heavy coat, and then indicated that she should precede him up the stairs. "I still haven't convinced my daughter to go to the police, but I did manage to get her to agree to see a doctor, provided the information about her condition and attack stay strictly confidential."  
  
"I've heard things about that place you work at, Dr. Green, sometimes disturbing things," the older woman said softly. "I take it your daughter works there too?"  
  
"Yes," Sydney confirmed her guess quietly. "My daughter is in a position where her authority in important matters could be eroded if the wrong people should find out..."  
  
"Say no more," Dr. Armant shook her head. She'd reached the top of the stairs, and turned to Sydney. "I don't know, and I think I don't want to know. So where..."  
  
Sydney moved ahead of her quickly. "This way," he indicated, and pushed quietly through the door of the master bedroom.  
  
Miss Parker was still asleep, although obviously in pain and discomfort through her sleep. Sydney motioned for Dr. Armant to wait for a moment, and he carefully sat down next to Miss Parker. "Sweetheart," he called softly, taking up a hand and patting it in order to rouse her. "Sweetheart, the doctor is here. C'mon, Parker, wake up."  
  
Finally the grey eyes opened and, after taking a moment to focus and then remember where she was and why, focussed on the woman standing in the doorway of the bedroom with growing panic. "Sydney..."  
  
"Now," Sydney soothed, looking over his shoulder at his new guest. "You agreed you'd let the doctor look at you." He turned back to Miss Parker, and stroked her hair to calm her. "OK?"  
  
The grey eyes flicked between Sydney's face and the face of the stranger, and then Miss Parker nodded slowly in concession. Sydney motioned for Dr. Armant to approach, and rose to let the woman take his place sitting at the bedside.  
  
"Ms. Green, your father told me the substance of what has happened to you. Considering the circumstances, I share his concern about your bleeding." Dr. Armant took Miss Parker's hand gently, as Sydney had done before her. "So why don't we get this over with, so you can get back to sleep, eh?"  
  
Miss Parker's gaze flicked back up and met Sydney's gratefully. This woman had called him her father - believed her to be a Ms. Green - and not a Miss Parker. And the woman's tone was kindly and certainly knowledgeable, instilling the smallest note of confidence. Miss Parker nodded quietly at her.  
  
"Dr. Green, if you could get a clean sheet, it would be very helpful," Armant directed with quiet efficiency as she began pulling gynecological equipment from her black doctor's bag. "And then, once we have that, maybe you wouldn't mind stepping from the room while I examine..."  
  
"No." Miss Parker's voice was soft but determined. She stared up at him pleadingly. "Sydney, don't leave... you promised you'd stay..."  
  
Sydney's gaze moved from Miss Parker's face to that of Dr. Armant and back again, then he turned to pull open a drawer and extract the sheet that had been requested. He turned and handed the sheet to the doctor. "If she wants me to stay..."  
  
Armant merely nodded. "Alright, then. Why don't you go sit on the other side of the bed," she pointed, and Sydney followed her instructions. She stood and turned to Miss Parker, beginning to unfold the sheet. "Do you have clothing on?" Miss Parker nodded. "Then you need to take the bottoms off after I cover you with this sheet, and then I want you to lay across the bed sideways with your head over there by your dad. OK?"  
  
Again Miss Parker nodded, and with a thoroughly unhappy expression untied the sweat pants cord and worked them down over her hips after the doctor had pulled back the electric blanket and spread the sheet over her. Painfully, she sat up and twisted on the bed and then lay back down with her head next to Sydney's hip. Then, her face glowing red with embarrassment, she let the doctor remove the sweatpants completely and then position her feet on the bed so that her knees were in the air and spread wide. After pausing to adjust the lampshade next to the bed to afford her the best lighting, Armant moved the sheet back so that the examination could begin while still protecting Miss Parker's modesty. The grey eyes slammed shut the moment she felt the doctor's first, gentle yet insistent touch.  
  
For his part, Sydney focussed his entire attention on Miss Parker's face, bending over her and with tender fingers wiping away the tears as they slid one by one from beneath tightly squeezed eyelids. His other hand cradled her head against his thigh and smoothed back her hair over and over again in the hopes that by doing so he would give her some other touch to focus her mind on rather than on what the doctor was doing.   
  
Armant's examination was thorough and quick. She moved back and patted Miss Parker's knee. "You stay like that, my dear." She stepped around the tented sheet so that she could see both Miss Parker's face and Sydney's. "There's a lot of tearing, both inside and out - that's where the bleeding is coming from. And frankly, I'm glad you called - because the injury is serious enough and the bleeding heavy enough that if left unattended for too much longer, it could have become life-threatening. The stitches I'm going to put in will stop most if not all the bleeding." Those bright, dark eyes met and held Sydney's. "And I'm going to take a sample for a rape kit, just in case your daughter does decide to report this to the police later on." Sydney nodded gratefully, then looked down at Miss Parker.   
  
Miss Parker swallowed hard. "Alright," she said in a small voice, then closed her eyes tightly again.   
  
"There's one other thing I need to know before I go much further," Armant said quietly. "I need to know if there's any chance that she... you... were already pregnant before... before what happened this evening?"  
  
Miss Parker stared up into Armant's face as if shocked and angry, then closed her eyes again tightly and shook her head vehemently, and the tears flowed down the side of her face just a little harder as she worked hard to stifle her sobs. Sydney gently wiped the tears away for her, wishing he could save her from even a small portion of the indignities that were flying at her. "No, Doctor. She wasn't."  
  
"Good. I didn't think so, from my preliminary exam, but it never hurts to make sure..." Armant accepted the assurance and then moved back to where she'd been. "Ms. Green, I'm going to give you a couple of shots first, before anything else; the first is a local anesthetic so I can put in the stitches you need without hurting you anymore than necessary. The second is an antibiotic that I'll put in your hip, in case of any other disease and to prevent any infection from getting started in the wound itself."  
  
And with that, Armant quickly set to work. She drew several wrapped syringes and sealed bottles of clear liquid from her bag and arranged them on the top of the sheet within easy reach, then drew out the rest of the supplies and instruments she felt she might need. Then after once more aiming the light from the nightstand lamp so she could see better what she was doing, she began.  
  
Miss Parker pulled one hand out from beneath the sheet and reached frantically for one of Sydney's arms, and he bent over her again after capturing her hand tightly in his. "I'm right here, Parker" he soothed time and time again, every time she looked as if she were ready to break into hysterics. "Hang on, you're almost done." She hung onto his hand so tightly that her knuckles grew white and his hand began to ache, and she focussed on the sound of his voice, futilely attempting not to pay attention to what the doctor was doing.  
  
Eventually, finally, Armant sighed and straightened up. She patted Miss Parker's knees again. "You can put your feet down again, my dear, we're through with that part of it." She reached for the sweat pants, which had hit the floor, and noted the bloodstain. "Do you have something else for her?" she asked Sydney, showing him the bloody sweat pants; whereupon he turned and pulled another pair from his dresser. She carefully helped ease her patient back into the clothing, and then with Sydney's help managed to get Miss Parker twisted back onto the bed properly and tucked under the warm blanket again. Armant reached one last time into her bag.   
  
"Now, I'm afraid I'm going to have to make you a bit of a pincushion, my dear. I need to take a blood sample for baseline comparisons that may be needed later, and then I'll give you a sedative. You need some quality rest after all of this, and I'm certain your father has just about exhausted himself as well tonight." Armant looked over at Sydney and knew her assessment of his condition to be fairly accurate.   
  
"The third shot, however, was the reason why I had to know whether you were already pregnant. It's a contraceptive that will make sure you don't have any pregnancy issues to deal with arising from THIS event. Now, I know some folks have theological problems with the concept of contraception as a whole, so I'll need either yours or your father's permission to administer the injection."   
  
Sydney stared down into Miss Parker's pale face, and he could see that her mind was unable to cope with even the idea of a pregnancy arising from this night of horror. As for himself, he had to swallow hard against the sour taste of a rising gorge at the mere thought. For once he was grateful that he no longer felt the obligations of his childhood religion. "You don't want to take any chances, sweetheart," he advised her gently, his voice shaking. "Do you?"  
  
Her eyes slammed shut and she shook her head vehemently, huge tears once more escaping the closed eyelids and trickling down the side of her face. Sydney raised his head and addressed himself to Armant. "She'll have that shot as well, Doctor."  
  
Armant slipped the specimen needle into the vein in the crook of Miss Parker's arm before she had a chance to complain, drew the blood very quickly, then set that syringe aside and inserted the syringe with the sedative into the same vein with practiced efficiency. She rubbed near the injection site softly to speed the sedative on its work, then covered it with a small cotton ball and tape. Miss Parker's eyes soon drooped and then closed even as Armant slipped the final shot into the muscle of her forearm. The doctor signaled with her head for Sydney to confer with her by the door as she stripped away her latex gloves. Armant took a moment and scrawled on the side of the vial with Miss Parker's blood sample, then walked to the bedroom door to join Sydney where he waited for her.  
  
"The damage was more extensive than I first thought," she admitted in a stage whisper. "I haven't the slightest idea what they used on her to tear her that badly... She was lucky that the injuries were fairly straightforward and easily repaired. For what its worth, it took twenty stitches, but I think I've stitched up the wound as best I can under these conditions. With any luck, and if you can keep her completely quiet and resting in bed for the next two days at the very least, her body should be able to handle anything I left undone. Push fluids especially and watch for new bleeding for the next twenty-four hours or so. What I did should have stopped most of it, if not all of it, and the contraceptive injection I gave her should start her cycling about seven to ten days from now. Any persistent bleeding between now and then should be considered cause for some concern; and if she should start to bleed heavily again within the next day or so especially, she needs to be brought in immediately for emergency surgery." Armant rubbed her eyes tiredly. "Now, I know this isn't exactly standard procedure, but I'll leave the swab with the rape kit sample for you. I just hope you can convince her to report this. Whoever did this..." The older woman didn't continue, and Sydney was thankful that she didn't.  
  
"How can I ever thank you, Sylvia?" he asked quietly, fetching her a towel with which to wrap her instruments in until she could sterilize them again.  
  
"You'll get my bill," she replied darkly, snapping her doctor's bag shut.  
  
"I'd really rather you didn't," Sydney responded quickly. "I don't want any record of this anywhere." He stepped over and opened the drawer of the nightstand and drew out his wallet, and from it withdrew four one hundred dollar bills. "Please."  
  
Armant looked at the money and then up into his face. "I want to see her in my office in two weeks - and I'll let that be her first visit of record," she said finally, accepting the money. "There will be no other record of this visit anywhere, then, as you wish."  
  
Sydney breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you!" He escorted the tired woman back down the dimly lit hallway and down the stairs, and then helped her back into her overcoat. "I don't know how to tell you how much I appreciate..."  
  
"Just convince your girl to report this to the authorities," Armant urged firmly and sincerely. "The animals who did this to her need to be taken out of circulation before they do another girl more serious harm! Your daughter is very lucky to have even survived her attack - another may not be so lucky."  
  
Sydney nodded. "I'll do what I can," he assured her, opening the front door for her again. With Armant gone, he leaned back against his closed front door and rotated his head on his neck tiredly. He ached with all the unusual physical activity of carrying Miss Parker from place to place or having her weight hanging from his neck, and he was approaching the point of exhaustion himself simply from the lateness of the hour. He slowly walked through his house, extinguishing the lights as he went through the living room and up the stairs and down the hallway. He paused at the bathroom to make sure the tub had finally drained properly, reminding himself to call his housekeeper in the morning to come for an unexpected cleaning job. He reached in to snag the blood-soaked silk pajamas into a plastic bag he'd brought with him from below, and safely put with them the swab Armant had left him and sealed the bag shut. That done, he returned to his room.  
  
Miss Parker lay against the pillow, pale and fast asleep. Sydney scratched his head tiredly and considered spending the rest of the night in the easy chair sitting guard over her rest, when she stirred and moaned restlessly in her sleep. He sighed, then reached out and extinguished the lamb on the nightstand, checked and turned off the alarm clock so that it wouldn't rouse her before she was ready. He then went around to the other side of the bed, kicked off his slippers and seated himself on top of the heated covers so that his back was supported by the headboard and then pulled the bedspread over his legs. He leaned over where he knew her head lay and whispered softly, "I'm here, Miss Parker. You're safe. I won't let anything harm you. Sleep now, sweetheart."  
  
He felt her shift and turn towards him, and then felt an arm reach out and find his side. He caught at the hand and felt her grab it tightly and then drag it to her chest, nearly pulling him over on top of her, and then hold it and the forearm it was attached to close with a murmured, "Tommy..." Rather than awaken her, or pull his hand back when the bent-over position she'd pulled him into got uncomfortable later on, he let himself slip down into a prone position next to her so that she could simply keep possession of his hand and arm without causing him any more discomfort in the process and, pulling the thin bedspread over his shoulders for warmth, closed his eyes.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Never a late sleeper in the morning, Sydney was rousing as the sun began to peek through the curtains of the window. At first, he couldn't figure out why his arm was caught and pinned, but then he glanced over sleepily and saw Miss Parker still hanging firmly onto it with both hands - and he remembered the events of the night before. It took some very slow and careful moving to extricate himself from her grasp without awakening her, but when he did, Sydney rose quickly and then straightened the covers over Miss Parker's shoulders that had been disturbed in his movement. She nevertheless obviously missed his arm in her sleep, for she folded her arms around herself with a small moan and rolled away from him onto her back.  
  
So as not to chance awakening her unnecessarily, Sydney took his bathroom needs down the hall, then splashed cold water in his face to bring him completely awake. Tiptoeing down the stairs, he first went to the telephone and phoned into the Centre, pleading with a feigned weak and scratchy voice the onset of the 'flu to earn himself a few days of freedom. Then he moved to the kitchen and set about making a pot of coffee and some scrambled eggs and toast for them both.  
  
Miss Parker stirred restlessly and roused slightly, subconsciously missing the warmth of Sydney's arm and roused by her own bathroom needs beginning to make themselves known. She opened her eyes and gazed around her in confusion. She wasn't in her own, comfortable bed. Then she went to sit up, and the soreness in her entire body and the sudden dizziness that made her lie back quickly brought back everything to her in an uncomfortable rush. Now she could make out the decidedly masculine attributes of the bedroom décor - and she remembered at last that she was at Sydney's. She looked around the room, and found herself alone - and was unsure whether she should feel frightened or relieved.   
  
Still, her bathroom needs were beginning to grow insistent; so she sat up slowly and painfully and, peeling the toasty blanket back, scooted her legs over the edge of the bed. Remembering also the pain of trying to walk the last time, she slipped very slowly and carefully onto her feet, feeling the injured muscle of her left leg scream in protest but using her right leg to otherwise hold her upright. It was work to take the two steps that carried her to the bedroom wall, where she could lean heavily for support as she limped slowly toward the private bath. The tile floor was cold against her feet and made her shiver. She closed the door softly to give herself the privacy she needed.  
  
Sydney entered the bedroom with the tray with two plates, a bowl of scrambled eggs, toast, a glass of orange juice and two steaming mugs of coffee, only to find the bed empty and the door to his private bath closed. Feeling somewhat encouraged that she was apparently feeling well enough to attempt to navigate on her own to the bathroom, he placed the tray on the dresser and went to the bed to rearrange the pillows so that she could sit up in bed more comfortably to eat when she returned. He heard the toilet flush while he was straightening the towel she'd been laying on - satisfied that there seemed to be no further evidence of fresh bleeding - and then the door opened.  
  
Miss Parker was moving slowly and painfully, but she was moving on her own. Sydney straightened and watched her lean against the wall and limp her way back to the point closest to the bed. "Let me know if you want some help," he said encouragingly.  
  
"I think I'm OK for now," she replied softly, finding herself grateful that he didn't rush in and take away her hard-won victory of independent movement. She steadied herself, then shuffled the two steps across the open floor to the bed again and sat down quickly. At that point, Sydney moved to her side and waited until she had put her own feet back up into bed before reaching across her for the blankets and helping her settle down into a seated position.  
  
"There's toast and eggs, the juice is for you, and there's coffee," he offered as he stepped over to the dresser and retrieved the tray. He sat down next to her carefully and put the tray on the bed next to her, within her reach. "I can make you tea, if you'd prefer..."  
  
"No, coffee's fine," she decided and reached for the nearest mug. "I don't know that I'm all that hungry though..."  
  
Sydney didn't push her at all, now willing to let her set her own pace for recovery since she'd at least conceded to have some medical attention. He sat down on the bed facing her, uncovered the bowl with the scrambled eggs and put a healthy amount on his own plate, snagged a piece of toast and began to eat his own breakfast. Miss Parker watched him eat quietly and heartily for a long moment, then she reached out for her own piece of toast and nibbled unenthusiastically.  
  
"Dr. Armant wants you to stay quiet and have complete bed rest for a couple of days at least, and drink lots of liquids," he informed her eventually, breaking the silence that had grown between them. "She also wants to see you officially for the first time in two week's time."  
  
"That's reasonable," She sipped at the hot coffee carefully. "She actually thinks I'm your daughter?" Miss Parker asked over the rim of her coffee cup.  
  
Sydney shrugged noncommittally. "She doesn't know me that well... And besides, I figured you'd prefer to keep your identity hidden, in case the Centre does begin poking around."  
  
"I do, and thank you for thinking it through for me," she said quietly, her grey eyes large and watching her old friend very closely.   
  
"Incidentally, I called in to the Centre and told them I have the 'flu, so that I could stay here with you while you rested," Sydney continued with a nod. "I suppose that you'd better call in too pretty soon with some kind of excuse yourself..."  
  
"Hand me the phone and let me get it over, then," Miss Parker said with a touch of her old bravado. Sydney leaned over and handed her the handset and watched her dial in the number she knew by heart. She held the handset to one ear while running her fingers through her hair and pulling it back from her face while she waited for the other end to be picked up.  
  
"This is Miss Parker," she announced, her voice as strong as ever. "I just wanted you to know that I've got a solid lead on Jarod and will be out of touch for the next few days. I'll call in again when I need the sweeper team to help with the retrieval - but in the meanwhile, I don't want to call attention to myself by bringing an entourage..." She listened, her face pulled tight and pained. "Look, Lyle, I don't care what you think. You just tell Broots and Sydney to stick by the phone in case I need their help, and I'll be in touch within a day or so. Got it?" She listened again, and Sydney could tell that whatever Lyle was telling her was making her angrier by the moment. "No, I'm not going to tell you where I'm going and have you rush in and spoil things! I want Jarod back as much as you do - so just let me do my job without getting in my way and screwing things up for me again, OK?" She punched the button to disconnect the call. "Idiot!"  
  
Sydney retrieved the handset from her with a cautious smile. If ever he'd had any doubts about the validity of her being included as a potential Pretender in the Red Files, she had just dealt those doubts a death blow. "Feel better?" he asked, handing her the glass of juice and motioning for her to drink.  
  
Miss Parker glared at him for a moment, then her face relaxed into chagrin before taking a healthy gulp of the juice. "I took out my ... my ... on Lyle, didn't I?" she asked quietly in a moment of reflection, and watched her psychiatrist friend nod and confirm her diagnosis. "Yeah, I think it helped a little..." She finished the juice at Sydney's insistence, then nibbled at her toast again with a little more interest, finishing it quickly.  
"Sydney, will I ever feel safe again?" she asked softly at last, her need to even ask that question embarrassing her.  
  
"More than likely, yes," Sydney soothed, sensing her discomfort with appearing vulnerable in front of anybody reasserting itself a bit. "But not right away. The time will come when you install a better security system at your home, change some of your habits to ones that leave you less vulnerable, and eventually you will be as back to normal as you can get." He paused and waited until she looked up at him expectantly to continue. "But it will take some time, and you'll have to learn to be patient with yourself until you do feel safe and in control."  
  
"I don't like feeling this way!" she burst out, surprising herself more than Sydney. "I don't like..." Miss Parker stuck her nose in her coffee cup suddenly, focussing her gaze on the surface of the liquid as she sipped and savored the liquid as it warmed her from within.  
  
"You don't like what, Parker?" Sydney asked quietly, after waiting futilely for her to look back up at him again. He reached out, and with a gentle yet firm hand pulled her coffee cup away from her face so that she had no excuse not to look at him. "It's OK. Tell me."  
  
The expression in those huge grey eyes was an uncomfortable one of extreme frustration and fear. "I don't like being such an imposition on you. You don't want or need to be nursemaiding me - a grown woman. I should..."  
  
"You should what?" Sydney blinked, not surprised by her outburst at all.  
  
"I should grow up, get a backbone, go home, and get out of your hair," Miss Parker said in a very soft, very fragile voice, afraid to meet his gaze for fear her assessment was right and she was imposing on his hospitality. "And why you haven't insisted..."  
  
Sydney reached out for the hand without the coffee cup, pulling it steadily toward him again until he could lace his fingers with hers more securely. "Why do you think I should insist on your leaving, Miss Parker?" he asked kindly, not letting her pull free of his grasp.  
  
Miss Parker looked up into his eyes with a fearful shyness. "Because I'm behaving like one of those mewling over-dependent weak-kneed females who can't do anything for themselves..." Her breath caught, as if a sob was struggling to wrench itself free. "I'm imposing on you so much..." she continued in a voice whose strength was forced.  
  
Sydney used his free hand to set his plate back on the tray, and then to retrieve Miss Parker's coffee mug from her other hand and put it back on the tray as well. He then very deliberately reached out and captured that hand and held onto both tightly. "I want you to listen to what I have to say, and I want you to accept that I'm telling you the truth," he began, then resisted her attempts to free her hands without his face mirroring his struggle with her. "Are you listening to me?" he demanded softly, finally pulling back firmly on both her hands and forcing her to look back up into his eyes.  
  
"I'm listening," she conceded reluctantly, and stopped struggling, unable to afford the energy to continue the effort any longer.  
  
"Then understand this: you are NOT imposing on me," he said gently, with as much feeling as he could muster. "You are NOT behaving like a child, nor like a overly-dependent female who can do nothing for herself. My God, Parker, you were kidnapped from your bed, viciously assaulted sexually, beaten nearly to a pulp and then taken out and dumped into a snow bank like a bag of trash to bleed to death! Give yourself the space to be human and need the help of another person every now and then, for heaven's sake!" He pulled on her hands again slightly for emphasis. "And give ME the space to render WILLING assistance to someone I care very much about."  
  
"Sydney..." she tried, brought almost to tears by statements so contrary to what she knew her father would be telling her if he were still alive.  
  
"No," he held up a stern finger and denied her any further permission to interrupt. "You've said your piece. It's my turn now. If there's anything you don't deserve, it is to be told you don't deserve another person's thoughtfulness or help - and you deserve even less to be the one saying such things to yourself. I've known you since you were a little girl, Parker - and whether or not I've shown it much, I've cared very much for you for about as long. I'll not let anyone tear you apart when I'm in a position to prevent it, and I certainly won't let you do it to yourself. You asked for my help last night, and by God, I'm going to help you!"   
  
The tears were falling unchecked now, and try as she might, Miss Parker couldn't help but cling once more to those huge hands that held hers so tightly.  
  
Sydney stopped speaking and simply pulled on her until he could pull her close into an embrace where she could lean her head on his shoulder. "I've got you now," he soothed gently against her ear, "whether you want my help or not - and I'll be right here for you for as long as it takes. I..." He caught himself on the very brink of admitting the depth of his affection for her - surprised at the fact that he had gotten to the point of open admission so quickly and without any apparent reluctance - then realized that perhaps it was precisely this kind of support that she needed most of all at the moment. "I... love you, Parker, very much - as if you were my own daughter. Please don't ask me to stand aside and watch you suffer alone. I couldn't bear it!"  
  
Miss Parker's arms wound themselves around Sydney and held onto him tightly as she once more let loose the sobs that were tearing her apart. He tightened his embrace around her, murmuring comfort in her ear from time to time but letting her once more cry herself out in her own time. His own tears fell again too, but this time he made no attempt to hide them from her. Like it or not, his heart was out on his sleeve where she could easily see it and maybe take some comfort from it.   
  
When at last she had drained herself of the latest surplus of grief and anguish, she rested heavily against him, her head lolling on his shoulder with her nose tucked carefully beneath his chin. She felt at last the dampness of his tears joining hers on her cheek, and realized that with those few words, he had made himself at least as vulnerable to her as she had become to him. With his declaration, he had demonstrated that he was willing to trust her with his heart, just as she had trusted him with her very sanity only hours earlier. She took a deep, cleansing breath and snuggled herself even deeper into Sydney's arms, feeling the warmth of his caring flowing over her like the warmth of his electric blanket had the night before.  
  
"I'm sorry, Syd," she began, only to have him shush her.  
  
"No apologies, Parker, remember?" He dropped a kiss into her hair. "Everything will be alright - I promise."  
  
Miss Parker took another deep, cleansing breath and closed her eyes as she exhaled. The exchange had exhausted her completely now. Sydney felt her relax against him and sensed that she was ready to drop again, this time from emotional exhaustion more than physical injury. "C'mon, let me help you get more comfortable so you can sleep again," he said before she could fall completely to sleep in his arms. He reached behind her and rearranged her pillows again, and then carefully laid her back in a prone position against them.   
  
"I don't know how to tell you how much..." she began, reaching out once more for a hand.  
  
Sydney caught her hand, kissed her fingers, then tucked the hand back under the warm blanket. "You don't have to say anything," he soothed, stroking her hair. "Sleep now. We'll talk more after you've rested again."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Sydney was just about finished cleaning up the breakfast dishes, rinsing and loading the dishwasher, when his cell phone chirped insistently. Wiping his hands on a small dish towel, he pushed the receive button and put the appliance to his ear. "This is Sydney..."  
  
"Where is she, Sydney?" Jarod's voice demanded frantically. "Where is Miss Parker?"   
  
"Jarod..."  
  
"I called her home, her office, and her cell last night, nothing. I went by her house last night when I couldn't reach her, and I found the front door standing wide open and nobody there. It looked like someone had broken in and trashed the place. And there was blood... a LOT of blood. I waited, but she never returned - I closed it up as best I could, for what its worth. And then I called her office this morning - nothing. Where..."  
  
Sydney shook his head as he sat down at the kitchen table. "Jarod, Jarod! She's safe."  
  
"Where is she, Sydney?"  
  
"She's here, at my house. Upstairs, asleep."  
  
That took Jarod aback, and Sydney could tell that it was taking Jarod a few moments to digest the information. "There? With you?"  
  
"That's right."  
  
"And you say she's OK?"  
  
Sydney didn't answer immediately, not exactly knowing how to explain why Miss Parker was fast asleep upstairs in his house or what her condition was, and he was particularly unwilling to lie to his former protégé. "She's fast asleep right now," he hedged instead. "I just left her a little while ago, after making her some breakfast. She's safe, Jarod - you don't need to worry..."  
  
"What aren't you telling me?" Jarod's voice was suspicious. "Is she OK? What is she doing sleeping at your place?"  
  
"Jarod..."  
  
"You haven't answered my question, Sydney," Jarod said, as if finally hearing what his mentor was trying not to say. "She's not OK, is she?"  
  
"No." Sydney hung his head. Jarod was too intelligent to hold at bay for long. "But she will be, eventually, with luck..."  
  
"How badly... Sydney..."  
  
"Bad. Very bad." Sydney couldn't continue, and the silence on the other end of the line was ominous. "Let it go, Jarod. They drugged her."   
  
"Did they ...?" The question was soft, hesitant, fearful, angry.  
  
"Yes."   
  
Sydney could hear Jarod snort in rage in a manner so similar to his own reaction. "Did either you or she call the police?"  
  
"She doesn't want them involved," Sydney shook her head in frustration. "I'm sure she's convinced that the Centre would find out about it if she did. She's probably right - and right now, Lyle or Raines poking into her business is the absolute last thing she needs. I did manage to convince her to let me call a doctor friend of mine last night, however, so at least the worst of it has been seen to - she didn't bleed to death on me..." Jarod was silent for a long time. "Jarod? Are you still there?"  
  
"Yeah." The Pretender's voice was bleak, anguished.  
  
"For what its worth, you might want to feed the Centre a bread crumb or two from some far-away, out-of-the-way locale. Miss Parker told them she was following a lead on you to give herself some time to get back on her feet. I gave myself a case of the 'flu so I could be here for her."  
  
"OK, Sydney, I'll feed Broots a bread crumb or two to keep them from sniffing after her for a few days. Its always fun to send Lyle and his crew on wild goose chases. But you tell Miss Parker that I'm not going to rest until those monsters..." Jarod snorted his rage yet again. "I'm not going to let this rest, Syd. Tell her that."  
  
"Be careful, Jarod." Sydney closed his eyes, unsure whether he should feel relief that somebody would be attempting to right the horrific wrong that had been done to Miss Parker or even more worried that Jarod might, in his anger, make a mistake that could cost him his freedom - or his life. "I don't want to have to secretly nurse you back to health too, nor do I want to have to visit you in a Centre detention cell."  
  
"You just take good care of Miss Parker, Sydney. I'll take care of everything else"  
  
"Don't worry, I will," Sydney assured him firmly.   
  
Jarod disconnected the call from his end, and Sydney set the cell phone on the table with a sigh and put his head in his hands. He'd have to tell her of the call eventually, and in her present emotional turmoil, there was no predicting how she'd react.  
  
"Who was that? Jarod?"  
  
He looked up in astonishment at the sound of her voice to find her leaning heavily against the doorjamb. "You're supposed to be staying quiet in bed, sleeping," he chided gently, rising and going to her to give her someone to lean on as she limped to one of the kitchen chairs and sat down very gingerly. "What are you doing up? Are you warm enough?"  
  
"I'm OK, Sydney. I just woke up and didn't want to stay up there all alone anymore..." She watched in bemusement as Sydney hurried to the living room and came back with a crocheted afghan that normally lay folded across the back of his couch. He unfolded it, then lay it about her shoulders.  
  
"Listen, I don't want you to take any chances," he said as he wrapped her carefully. "Dr. Armant ordered at least two days total bed rest for you, you know..."  
  
"I know, and I promise I won't run any marathons," Miss Parker said with a small smile, her fingers pulling the afghan more snuggly around her, "but thank you for fussing." She pointed at the cell phone on the table. "Now, was that Jarod you were speaking to?"  
  
Sydney nodded as he sat down across the table from her. "He was a bit frantic when he couldn't get in touch with you. He even went so far as to go over to your house, only to find the front door hanging open and nobody home."  
  
She nodded her acknowledgement. "What did you tell him?" Miss Parker shivered at the thought of the violation of her privacy, both by her assailants and by Jarod himself, and pulled the afghan Sydney had wrapped her in even more tightly about herself.  
  
"Very little. In the end, he told me more than I told him," Sydney admitted. "All I could do was confirm he was on the right track."  
  
"So he knows all of it?"  
  
"I'm afraid so." Sydney saw her shiver again and swallow hard, her face paling a bit further than it already was. "He wanted me to tell you that he wasn't going to let go of this - that he'd find the men who did this and... Well, he didn't say what would happen, but knowing Jarod, he won't be kind."   
  
"I hope he's careful," she sighed.   
  
"I do too," Sydney agreed, then shook his head at her. "But forget Jarod for now - you're as white as the driven snow again and starting to shake. You've over-exerted in coming down here. I want you to lie down right now, before you pass out."  
  
"I know," she said, shivering again. "I didn't realize coming down here was going to wipe me out the way it did, but I didn't want to be upstairs all alone. I know it sounds crazy, but..."  
  
He shook his head. "I'm the shrink, remember, and I'm telling you it doesn't sound crazy. But, tell you what - I'll make a deal with you." He shook a finger at her. "I let you move onto the couch in the living room and make a nice fire to keep you cozy and warm. And I promise spend the rest of the day quietly either in there with you, reading or something, or out here making meals for the both of us. In return, you promise not to get up and move around so much for the rest of the day. You will sleep or read or whatever - and you will eat more than just a crust of bread for me next time - but you will stay still and quiet and do some resting and healing. Fair?"  
  
"Very fair. As long as I know you're not far away, I'll be good, I promise," Miss Parker smiled at him, feeling a bit like a schoolgirl sweet-talking her father into something he didn't really want to do. A hand emerged from beneath the afghan and reached for him. "Thank you for being so patient with me, Sydney. I just... need to know that if I reach out... I can touch you... that you'll be there... I'm sorry, I don't mean to be so clingy..."  
  
Sydney's hand closed around hers warmly. "You can cling all you want, Parker. Don't apologize for it." He let go of her, then rose. "Now, lets see about getting you into the living room..." He came to her side and bent over her again as if to lift her in his arms.  
  
"No - c'mon Sydney, be reasonable. You're going to ruin your back if you keep picking me up and carting me all over the place," Miss Parker objected, putting out a deflecting hand. "Just let me lean on you, and maybe make sure I don't cave in on the way, and I can make it into the couch under my own steam."  
  
"Against my better judgment," he sniffed in mild disagreement, then grumbled, "As far as I'm concerned, you're being altogether far too active for your own good right now. Doctor Armant would no doubt be agreeing with me, you know... Besides, I'm not in such bad shape at my age that I can't lift a little thing like you..."  
  
"I know, but I don't want you to hurt yourself when I'm not completely helpless," she responded, her grey eyes wide as she moved her deflecting hand to encircle his neck and use it to help pull her out of her chair and erect again. She then turned into him and wrapped her other arm around his neck as well so that she was hugging him, making Sydney smile and shake his head at her still-formidable powers of persuasion, even in a depleted condition. "Thank you," she murmured. "You're good to me."  
  
"You're incorrigible, you know that?" Sydney sighed as he relented and wrapped his arms around her slender body and returned the hug with warm affection. He held her close for a moment, then straightened and, with an arm about her waist, carefully helped her walk slowly from kitchen to living room and the couch. She sat down and waited while he fetched more throw pillows and arranged them to make her more comfortable, then she laid herself into them without complaint while he retrieved the afghan from the kitchen floor and proceeded to cover her carefully and then tuck her in expertly. He bent over her and dropped a soft kiss on her forehead, and then advised her to "Now close your eyes and rest a while. I'll make us a fire, and then I have some reading that I've been wanting to do for a while."  
  
Miss Parker obeyed him, finding that now that she knew he was close at hand, she wasn't at all reluctant to relax and attempt to doze, as he wanted her to. Despite herself, she fell deeply asleep to the quiet sounds of his cleaning away the ashes of the previous evening's fire and laying kindling and then larger pieces to light now. The fire lit, Sydney looked over at his houseguest and smiled softly. For the first time since she'd dragged him from his bed with her pounding at his door, she was resting comfortably without the need for a sedative. He stepped past her silently to return to the kitchen to finish starting the dishwasher, so he could keep his promise and settle down into the easy chair by the fire and watch over her for the rest of the day.  
  
With another hot cup of coffee at his elbow, he settled into his favorite easy chair, adjusted his reading glasses on his nose, and took up the journal of psychiatry he'd been studying the evening before. The articles in this edition were engrossing, dealing with the psyche of the genius mind in both health and psychosis, and the long hours of the morning passed quietly. From time to time, however, he'd raise his head from his reading and watch Miss Parker sleep or dislodge himself to stir the fire and add another log. Eventually he rose and gently readjusted the afghan to prevent it from slipping from her as she slept.   
  
When he resumed his seat, he didn't immediately return to his reading, but sat silently, observing her and musing. This latest trauma had whipped all the support from her world, and yet she had managed to convince Lyle to leave her alone with a voice as strong in pretense as it ever had been in reality. Sydney rubbed his finger along his nose thoughtfully. With the respite the two phone calls had given them, they had maybe two or three more days of complete peace and quiet before their shared employer started pressing in on them and demanding a return to normalcy. Somehow, in that short amount of time, she was going to have to recover enough to throw together an approximation of her former, invincible persona for public consumption, lest the inevitable display of vulnerability undermine her ability to do her job and she be removed from the hunt for Jarod.   
  
She shifted in her sleep and moaned softly, as if her dreams had taken a less than pleasant turn. Sydney leaned back against the cushioned wing of his chair and continued to watch her with undisguised fondness and concern. Although many had been the times that he had wished he could breach her walls of distrust and distance, this was not the way he'd wanted such a thing to come to pass. He was willing to comfort and support her now and was grateful that she'd come to him in the first place, but he'd have far rather been supportive for the strong, independent but warm person he knew her capable of being. It was difficult seeing her in the position of a barely functional and traumatized victim of assault. Helping her get back on her feet quickly while still keeping this new, tenuous closeness between them intact was going to be quite a challenge.   
  
Miss Parker moaned again, a little more loudly, then jerked herself awake abruptly. She sat bolt upright, looked about the room, searching frantically, and finally called out, "Sydney!" with more than a little desperation.  
  
"I'm right here, Parker," Sydney said reassuringly immediately, put his journal back down on the table next to him and rose to come over to her. "Its alright, you're safe here with me." He took her grasping hands in his as he sat down next to her on the couch. "Bad dream?" he asked softly as he smoothed back her hair from her face.  
  
"I was alone," she started, shivering with the memory, "outside in the cold... in the night... I hurt everywhere... I felt... like... someone was intending me harm... I looked everywhere, and I couldn't find anyone to help me..." She closed her eyes and clung tightly to his hand. "Sydney, I can't do this..."  
  
"Yes you can," Sydney tightened his grasp on her hand in return. "I'm afraid you have no choice in the matter. But I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that getting through this is going to be easy or quick, however."  
  
"I can't do it alone," she whispered, her grey eyes large and fearful.   
  
Sydney brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. "I told you I'd be here for you for as long as you need me," he reminded her gently. "I'll be glad to help you, if you'll let me."   
  
Miss Parker relaxed back into her pillows and gazed at her old friend - the one person in her life other than her mother who'd always been there for her consistently and dependably. His support in later years had taken the form of a silent yet stalwart steadiness ever at her side as the disclosures of the truth behind all the lies in her life broadsided her one by one. She was finding the experience of having him suddenly so demonstrative and openly caring for her now the emotional equivalent of walking out of the winter's chill into his warm house the night before. Why had she so resolutely refused his caring before? She could no longer remember - anymore than she could imagine surviving without it now. "I'm so sorry, Sydney," she said with heartfelt sincerity.  
  
"Sorry for what?" he queried back, shifting so that he could once more adjust the afghan so that she was properly covered and tucked in.  
  
"For keeping you at such a distance," she answered reflectively. "For calling you names. For..."  
  
Sydney shook his head, his expression soft and accepting. "You were just doing as you had been trained, Parker. You'd been very thoroughly taught to let nobody near - especially after your mother died. I understood..."  
  
"That may be, but until now I never knew how much I've depended on you for so many things, and yet treated you shabbily when you came through for me time after time. I never once stopped to consider what I'd do if you weren't..." She paused, the thought of Sydney not being at her side right now being too difficult to consider.   
  
"You had your father, Parker, your school and university chums. You didn't need me..."  
  
"No, Sydney. That's not true. My father never... I always felt that I had something to prove to him, something else that I just couldn't quite figure out that would make him respect me - love me." She pulled her hand from where he had safely tucked it beneath the afghan again and reached for his hand yet again. "If he were still alive, I could never have come to Daddy last night. He'd have let me know that, by letting myself be... that this just proved I was a disappointment, a failure as a Parker..." Her grey eyes filled with tears, but she swallowed hard to keep them in check.  
  
"You have no idea how relieved I felt when I realized I was just outside your door," she admitted in a small voice. "I knew - I just knew - that if I could get to you, you'd take care of me. And you did - you took me in, no questions asked, and you saw to it I got the help I needed, even though I couldn't take care of myself or think of what to ask for..."  
  
"I told you, Parker, that I care for you as if you were my own," Sydney chafed her hand between both of his.   
  
"And you've always been a better father to me than my own ever has been," Parker stated quietly, her heart in her eyes. "You've always accepted me for who and what I am unconditionally and treated me with courtesy and respect, even when I've been loathsome and deliberately cruel to you in return. I..." She paused again, the words she wanted to say more difficult than she'd ever imagined. "I'm sorry I never told you how much I... I love you... as the father I never really had," she finally whispered. "As the father I wish I'd had."  
  
"Parker,..." She could see that his eyes had filled as she had made her declaration.  
  
"Do me a favor, Sydney?"  
  
"Anything," he breathed, almost too choked up to respond.  
  
"Hold me? Please?"  
  
Sydney opened his arms to her, and Miss Parker sat forward again and leaned against him, wrapping her arms around his chest as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. "Oh, my darling girl," he whispered softly, holding her tightly and protectively. "I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you when you needed it!"  
  
"But you're here now, when I need you most," Miss Parker murmured, contented and warm within his embrace. "I don't think I could live if you weren't," she said with feeling. She shifted in his arms and rested her head comfortably on his shoulder.   
  
Sydney closed his eyes and willed all his strength into her. He knew he was too close to her emotionally now to be able to be an objective therapist to her. But he was discovering that just being there for her, giving her the love and support of a caring parent, could be just as effective a tool in helping her overcome her trauma. "You are one of the strongest people I know. You're going to be just fine."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Sydney slipped his housekeeper a generous tip and thanked her quietly as he ushered her out the door. Luckily, Mrs Garcia had arrived not long after he had served Parker a nourishing lunch, knowing that the food would make his injured guest sleepy again so that hopefully she wouldn't get upset by the arrival of another stranger. While Parker napped quietly unaware on the couch, the housekeeper had gone upstairs, cleaned the bathroom and changed the blood-stained linens and mattress cover on the bed in the master bedroom. And being as it was only a week to Christmas, Sydney was sure that the extra-generous tip and whispered warnings on her way out would keep her from blabbing about what she saw to anybody. Mrs. Garcia had a general mistrust of anybody she suspected of being any kind of authority anyway, the result of her Guatemalan upbringing and near-fatal experience with death squads.   
  
He put his hands on his hips and stretched out his back, then returned to the living room to tend the fire yet again before reclaiming his comfortable chair and once more taking up his journal. He glanced over at the sleeping woman on the couch and was gratified to see that there actually was some color in her cheeks for a change. She had kept true to her promise - she had been very contented to remain stationary on the couch, provided he didn't wander far from her when she was awake without telling her where he was going or how long he'd be gone. She had even eaten the lunch he had prepared for her without needing any encouragement. Sydney adjusted his glasses and opened the journal, prepared to spend the rest of the afternoon just as peacefully as he had the morning.  
  
When finally he had finished reading the last article in the journal, he set the publication on the table along with his glasses, then glanced over to the couch. Miss Parker was awake, and watching him quietly from the comfort of her pillows. "Been awake long?" he asked gently as he rose to once more stir and feed their fire.  
  
"A while," she admitted calmly, shifting on the couch slightly. "I'm sorry if my watching you makes you uncomfortable."  
  
"It doesn't," he reassured her quickly, poking the new log into place on the bed of coals and then setting the poker aside. He rose and returned to his chair, then turned to face her. "Why would you think..."  
  
"Daddy..." Miss Parker began uncomfortably, "he was never very pleased when I would watch him work. I don't know if it was because he didn't want me knowing Centre secrets, or..." She shrugged against her pillow. "He always got angry at me when I did it."  
  
Sydney smiled at her. "I'm not Mr. Parker."   
  
"I know. The difference is never far from my mind right now, Syd," she responded with a soft smile in return. "Even so, I just wanted to make sure that..."  
  
"If it did bother me, I could tell you now so that you wouldn't make the same mistake again," Sydney finished for her and watched her nod. "I appreciate that, but there's nothing to worry about. I've nothing to hide. I'm just afraid you'll get rather bored eventually. I'm not a very interesting subject for observation."  
  
Miss Parker shifted and sat up against her pillows higher. "Now that's where you're mistaken," she smiled back at him again. "You're the first person since Tommy died..." she paused, then continued, "...that I've had the luxury of watching. I'm learning you can discover a lot about a person when you watch their expressions when they're not aware of it."  
  
Sydney chuckled. "Miss Parker, amateur psychologist, is it now?"  
  
"No, well, maybe," she said, turning serious. "It will be a real treat to get to know somebody I care about without worrying too much about offending them in the process."  
  
"And what have you learned about me so far?" he queried indulgently.  
  
"That you smile more when you're here than when you're at the Centre," she responded slowly and thoughtfully, "that you rub your finger against the side of your nose when you think something through carefully."  
  
"Verrry good," Sydney smiled at her, drawing the word out in his distinctive way. "There's hope for you yet. They chuckled together and then let a moment of comfortable silence stretch between them.  
  
"Tell me something?" Miss Parker asked eventually, leaning her head back into her pillow.  
  
"Parker, you can ask me anything you want. I'll tell you whatever you want to know."  
  
"Why do you still work for the Centre?"  
  
Sydney glanced at her sharply, then rose to tend the fire again - as much to prevent the latest log from slipping out onto the hearth as to give himself a chance to marshal his thoughts. "Why do you ask?" he inquired softly.  
  
"Because I don't think it suits you," she said quietly, yet firmly. "You have too much of a conscience to put up with most of what goes on there, that you know of. Why, Sydney? What makes you stay?"  
  
"It's hard to explain," he began, knowing that even he was dissatisfied with that response. "I stay partly because I keep hoping that I can maybe... prevent some of the uglier things from affecting others too badly, or make up for some of the ugliness I was part of long ago, before its too late for me or someone who needs my help. Lately, I stay because of you and Broots, because I enjoy your company - even when you're on a tear or Broots is indulging in his fantasies. You two are the closest I have to family now - along with Jarod, of course."  
  
"What about Michelle? Nicholas?" she asked very gently. "Wouldn't you rather be with them?"  
  
He shook his head firmly. "I can't allow myself to get close to them because I'd bring the Centre's eye back to them and threaten their safety," he answered quickly. "Besides, I'm only a very distant acquaintance of Nicholas'. I don't dare spend the time with him it would take to be more than that." He turned to gaze at her. "Why?"  
  
"Because," she sighed, "while I was sitting here watching you and wondering why you were still involved at the Centre - at least, what YOUR reasons for continuing to work there might be - I found myself asking myself the very same question. I was hoping that your answers might help me find my own."  
  
Sydney nodded knowingly. "And what do you see your reasons being, now that you've heard mine - such as they are?"  
  
Miss Parker's mouth tightened. "Not very good ones, I'm afraid." She blinked, and her grey eyes grew huge and vulnerable. "The only one that I could even remotely find acceptable was that at least there I had you and Broots. You two are the closest things I have to family too - along with Jarod and maybe Angelo..."  
  
"What about your father? Your brother?" Sydney's question was soft, knowing he was treading on tender ground, just as she had.  
  
"I think I've decided that they aren't family, only blood relations," she responded dryly. "I think that for a long time, the main reason I stayed was to try to win my father's respect and approval at long last. Just before he died, I think I finally realized I'd never measure up - and now all I have is Raines..." She swallowed hard.   
  
"And what brought on this line of questioning in the first place?" he probed further, moving to seat himself on the coffee table next to her.  
  
She shifted on her pillow so that she could cock her head slightly at him. "I started wondering how things would have been different if you had been my real father - how I would have grown up differently." She paused and thought a moment. "I see the way Jarod grew up, caring for others despite what had been done to him..."  
  
"By me," Sydney reminded her very softly in guilty tones that spoke eloquently of his many regrets in that regard.  
  
"By the Centre," Miss Parker corrected him just as gently. "You may have been their instrument, but I seriously doubt you would have chosen to do half of the experiments with Jarod that you did without feeling pressured by the Centre. Besides, its not that difficult to see how you did your best to mediate the Centre's abuses of him. You taught him right from wrong, how to see the good in people. So much of who and what he is can be traced directly back to your mentoring..."   
  
She reached out a hand to him, which Sydney grasped gently between both of his. "And before my father sent me away to school, you were doing the same for me, when you had the chance." She squeezed the hand. "I wish..."  
  
"I was always so proud of you, you know," Sydney mused at her, his chestnut eyes warm and full of pride. "You were always top of the class at everything you tried, from music to dance to economics. And even though I knew your father would never have approved, had he known, I attended every one of your recitals and graduations - even the one in Tokyo. I was never sure if he bothered to show up for such things for you, and I wanted there to be at least one person in the audience who was there just to watch for you - even if you didn't know."  
  
Miss Parker's eyes had filled as she'd listened to him speak. "I wish I had known," she admitted in a whisper. "Why didn't you ever say anything..."  
  
He smiled ruefully at her. "Because, at the time, it wouldn't have been a good idea, and you know it." He chafed her hand between his. "You were the Chairman's daughter, and I was only a hired hand - Jarod's 'trainer'. I had no right..."  
  
"I never thought of you like that..."  
  
"Yes, you did," he corrected without any rancor at all. "And it was reasonable, because that was what he taught you to do."  
  
She had to admit, he was correct. But, "That doesn't make it right..."  
  
"I never blamed you, Parker," Sydney soothed, chafing her hand again. "I just counted myself lucky to have simply gotten away with it in the first place, as well as for any friendship between us since then."  
  
Miss Parker had no answer for that, so contented herself with expressing her feelings by lacing her fingers in Sydney's. He carried her hand to his lips and kissed the backs of her fingers gently, then stared off into the fire while she found herself once more dozing off, once more tired by the emotional content of their exchange.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"This is Sydney."  
  
"Is it safe?"  
  
Sydney moved quickly to the front drapes and tweaked them aside, peering out into the snowy night for any signs of Centre surveillance. "I believe so."  
  
The call disconnected abruptly, and he heard the soft noise of someone coming into the house through the back door. He turned off the light in the living room and headed toward the back of the house. Jarod waited for him in the kitchen, and handed him a small suitcase.   
  
"I brought her some necessities from her house." Jarod explained quickly. "How is she doing?"  
  
"Asleep, again, in the guest room this time," Sydney nodded his thanks and put the suitcase near the door into the dining room. "And she stayed quiet all day, as the doctor ordered." He gazed into his protégé's face carefully. "You look tired, Jarod."  
  
"I am," Jarod admitted. "After I spoke to you, I spent all night checking things out, then the rest of today working with the police here in Blue Cove, trying to find out who..."  
  
"Any luck?"  
  
"Some." Jarod pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down at Sydney's gestured invitation while the older man put the tea kettle on the stove then sat to join him. "There have been a number of similar attacks on young women living alone in these parts over the last month. Looks like Parker was just the latest in a string of random home-invasion sexual assaults."  
  
"Do the police have any leads?" Sydney asked, concerned. "Do they even know if it's one man or more than one?"  
  
"All the victims who are talking report the perception of more than one man before being drugged. They woke up - or were found - outside, still in their nightclothes, beaten and bloody and badly injured from the viciousness of the sexual assault. A couple of them were nearly dead before they were found and haven't regained consciousness yet..." Jarod's voice got tight. "You never did tell me how badly was she hurt, Syd."  
  
"She's bruised over most of her torso, from the chin on down, and I think her left calf muscle is torn," Sydney reported, his voice tightening with having to remember. "She was torn, inside and out, and lost an awful lot of blood. The doctor had to put in a lot of stitches to stop the bleeding." He paused, and Jarod saw his mentor's eyes snapping with a murderous fury the like of which he'd never seen before in the otherwise gentle man's face. "What they did was monstrous, inhuman. I don't know..." He took a deep breath, trying to calm down again. "I want to kill them, slowly, for what they did." The sound of the tea kettle getting ready to boil halted the thought and brought Sydney to his feet again to prepare some hot chocolate for the both of them. The menial task gave him a chance to pull himself together again.  
  
"I know," Jarod agreed softly, watching Sydney efficiently make the two mugs of hot chocolate. "When I find them, I'm going to have to work very hard not to go ahead and do precisely that rather than turn them over to the police." He waited until Sydney was seated again, then wrapped his hands around his mug. "How is she, Sydney - really? Not just physically, I mean..."  
  
The older man sipped at his hot drink carefully. "I never thought I'd see her like this, Jarod. She's fragile emotionally in a way I haven't seen since the day her mother faked her suicide. She doesn't like to be alone for long when she's awake - she barely let me out of her sight to make meals today. She can't walk far without help with that torn muscle, and hasn't got much energy generally - although I'd imagine that's as much from the blood loss and injuries as from her emotional state. I wasn't sure she was even going to agree to sleep in the guest room by herself tonight - but so far, so good."  
  
"She's never going to survive at the Centre like that," Jarod hissed anxiously. "Lyle and Raines..."  
  
"I know," the older man sighed. "I figure I have maybe two or three more days to help her get back on her feet, more or less, and patched back together emotionally before the Centre dogs begin to yap at her heels. I hope she's as much of a Pretender as her files claim she could be, because she's going to have to pretend for all she's worth to get through this in one piece!"  
  
"I'm just glad she's got you in her corner," Jarod's voice was still soft as he sipped his own hot chocolate - the first Sydney had ever prepared for him in his life. "Of all the people in the world who might want to help her, she found the one person who actually COULD..."  
  
Sydney's eyes flicked up to meet the younger man's, then dropped again to gaze into his mug. "I only hope I can do better for her than I did for you," he mumbled, more to himself than anybody else. "You both deserve so much better than I..."  
  
"You underestimate yourself, Sydney."  
  
Chestnut eyes raised to gaze into deep chocolate eyes, their expression thoroughly unconvinced. "I don't think so," he responded with a small shake of the head, "but thanks for the vote of confidence anyway."  
  
Jarod took a long sip of his chocolate while he thought. Then, "Has she at least called..."  
  
Sydney shook his head. "She called in to make the excuse she'd gotten a lead on you in order to explain away a few days absence from work, but certainly not to let anybody know what's actually happened to her. I honestly don't think she's going to unless it becomes absolutely necessary. Besides, I don't think that she's ever accepted Mr. Lyle as a brother - and certainly she hasn't even begun to accept Mr. Raines as a father. That doesn't leave her with many other people to call for help in an emergency like this." He sipped his own chocolate thoughtfully, his expression soft as he pondered his new-found closeness with Miss Parker.   
  
"And besides, she's found you instead," Jarod finished the thought as if able to read Sydney's expression and the reason behind it like a primer. "Just as well; you'll be a much better father to her than her 'Daddy'- or perish the thought, Mr. Raines - ever thought of being. No wonder you say she's so clingy - for the first time since Catherine died, you're finally giving her the kind of unconditional care every child deserves and she's needed so badly for so long. I'm glad she found you, Sydney. Mr. Raines sure as hell doesn't know how to do that; he never did - anymore than her 'Daddy' did."  
  
"Perhaps," Sydney nodded thoughtfully. "The only good news in this whole fiasco is that she was apparently drugged during... during the worst of the assault. Her world may have been turned upside down and all the supports for her strength of character knocked away, but at least it seems that she doesn't have to remember."  
  
Jarod nodded again, then shook his head. "I was hoping that was the case. All the victims were found in horrible shape physically - but of those who are awake and half-ways functioning, three had to recover from near overdoses of sedative, and were probably unconscious the whole time, thank heavens. A couple of others obviously have stress-induced short-term amnesia, and still can't remember much since hours before the assault. And as desperately as we need a description of the attackers to put with the trace evidence we've managed to gather so far, I'd rather it not have to come from Miss Parker. It would mean..."   
  
"Don't say it. I don't even want to imagine her being awake during her assault!" Sydney shut his eyes and deliberately banished the thought from his mind as he remembered the sight of her unwashed and bloody injuries had been uncovered . "Her injuries... What they did to her..."  
  
It was then that Jarod finally noticed the shape his mentor was in. "My God, Sydney, you're exhausted! This has been almost as hard on you as it has been on her. You need to go to bed and get a good night's sleep yourself before you fall in."  
  
Sydney ran his hand over his face tiredly. "I know. I was just about to turn in when you called."  
  
"Then I need to leave and let you rest." Jarod drained the rest of his hot chocolate and then stood. "Thanks, Sydney - for the hot chocolate, and for taking such good care of Miss Parker. I won't keep you any longer."  
  
"You rest too, Jarod. Tired men make mistakes, and I already told you that I neither want to have to nurse you back to health on the QT nor visit you somewhere in the bowels of the Centre," Sydney urged, following suit with standing and finishing his chocolate as well. "Don't worry about Miss Parker; I'll take good care of her, I promise you. And you're very welcome for the chocolate." He gave his former protégé a shy smile. "It's a pleasure to actually be in the position of being able to make it for you, for a change."  
  
Jarod smiled at his old mentor gently. "Amazing how it's the little things of life that end up meaning the most," he mused, then gave Sydney a quick hug, surprising the older man with its warmth. "Tell Miss Parker I hope she starts to mend quickly, and that I still won't let this go. I'll be in touch when I find out anything. Take care of yourself too, OK?"  
  
"Wait a minute. I have something for you." Sydney held up a hand, then walked quickly from the kitchen, up the stairs to his bedroom, and back down to the kitchen again. With a grim look on his face, he handed Jarod a plastic bag with bloody clothing visible. "This is what she was wearing when she arrived at my door - along with the rape kit swab the doctor took during her examination. She'd already bathed by the time the doctor got here, so the swab may very well be useless - but here's the rest of it, for whatever good it will do. Perhaps there will be other fluids mixed in with all that blood."  
  
Sydney saw Jarod swallow hard at the sight of the amount of blood that had soaked through the silken garments. He took the bag and nodded at his mentor with an equally grim expression. "Thanks. I'll find some way to add this to the stack of evidence piling up against these monsters without dragging her name into things."  
  
"Be careful, Jarod - and thanks for your help. And that's from both Miss Parker and myself," Sydney cautioned, opening the back door for his guest to slip back out into the inky chill.   
  
"See you," Jarod waved, then vanished into the night.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"NO!!! GOD!!! SYDNEEEEEEY!!!"  
  
The bloodcurdling screams brought Sydney straight up out of a deep sleep, and he didn't even stop to grab his robe before rushing across the dark hallway to the guest bedroom and flipping on the light. Miss Parker's face was ashen, and she was sitting straight up in bed, her grey eyes huge and wild with terror, her arms out and reaching for him the moment he came into view.  
  
"I'm here," Sydney said firmly and rushed to her side, sitting down on the edge of the bed and wrapping his arms around her fiercely. "I'm here, sweetheart - you're OK."  
  
She was shivering violently, wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tightly to him and buried her face in his shoulder, breathing hard as if she had been running a far distance. "God," she breathed brokenly, snuggling as tightly into Sydney's arms as she could possibly get, seeking the warmth and safety that he represented to her now.   
  
Sydney's arms tightened even further. "Hush," he whispered against the hair over her ear. "You're safe, Parker. Nobody can hurt you here."  
  
"Don't let go," she whispered harshly, still shivering from her nightmare.  
  
"I've got you. I'm not letting go." Sydney closed his eyes tiredly. He had expected the nightmares and night terrors to begin soon, but had hoped for one more restful night first. "Hush now. You're OK."  
  
She pulled away from him in agitation, completely distraught, eyes still wide with terror and horror. "I... it was dark, and cold, and I could hear them, laughing..." Parker shuddered in terror and huddled down against Sydney again. "Then I felt one of them..."  
  
Sydney blinked, his arms loosening in shock. "Parker, what are you saying? Do you remember...? You were conscious after all???"  
  
"He hurt me... inside me... had his hands at my throat... and the other one kept kicking me, and..." she continued as if she hadn't heard him. "I thought... I was going to die..."   
  
"Oh God!" the psychiatrist breathed, closing his eyes as if the gesture would negate his own worst nightmare about this entire incident being confirmed after all. "Parker..."  
  
She was starting to shake her head. "I don't know if it was just a dream, or..." Her breath caught in a barely suppressed sob. "Oh Sydney, I'm so scared... If every time I close my eyes now..."  
  
"It's alright," he soothed at her, pulling her to him again. One hand moved up to cradle her head as it lay against his upper chest and the other tightened around her shoulder again, holding her to him as tightly as he dared. "I know you're scared, but it was just a nightmare or a memory. It's all over, and you're safe now. I won't let anybody hurt you again."  
  
"Hold me, Sydney - don't let go..."  
  
"If I hold you much tighter, I'll break something!"  
  
Her hands grasped the front of Sydney's pajama shirt and clung to it tightly as she pushed herself as close into him as she could possibly manage. Even then, it took Miss Parker a very long time to finally stop shivering. When Sydney finally felt her begin to relax a bit, he loosened his hold on her just a little. "Better?" She nodded against him. "Can you lie back down now?"  
  
"Don't leave me alone!" Her arms slid around his waist and tightened around him immediately again, frantically clinging to him and restraining him.  
  
"Here, now! I'm not going anywhere," he comforted her even as he smoothed her hair back away from her face. "I'm staying right here with you. But you need to rest, and you won't be able to if you have me hold you all night long like this. Lie back down and get comfortable now. I'll be right here..."   
  
She obeyed him slowly, but then took possession of his left hand and clung to it tightly even as he attempted to straighten her covers for her. Her eyes were huge pools of terrified black only thinly ringed with grey; and as he watched, tears slipped from the corners and trickled down the side of her face. "Sydney, I can't live this way," she choked out.  
  
He reached out and cupped his hand against her cheek gently. "It won't be like this forever. I know you're frightened," he said softly and tenderly, "but you WILL survive this. You're a strong woman - stronger than any I've ever met. Believe it or not, the nightmares WILL go away, in time." He reached out his still-free right hand and turned on the nightstand lamp. "Now, let me go turn off the overhead..." he began, gently trying to free his other hand from her panicked grasp.  
  
"NO!! Don't leave me!!"   
  
"I swear I'm not leaving you. I just want to turn the lights down a bit for when you decide to try to rest again. I'll be right back." His free hand returned to her cheek, and the thumb caressed the cheek in order to help calm her utter terror. "You told me you trusted me. I'm asking you to trust me now, Parker. Let me turn the overhead light off, and I'll be right back. I promise."  
  
More tears trickled down the side of the face as she gazed deeply into his warm, chestnut eyes, and then her grasp on his left hand slowly loosened. He stood, turned, and only took as many steps as he needed to be able to stretch out and flip the switch off; then turned back to the bed. Knowing better than to sit back down where he'd been, Sydney moved to the other side of the bed and sat down on top of her warm covers, slipping his bare feet beneath the bedspread and resting his back against the headboard. "Here, see? I'm right here, next to you, within reach..."  
  
Miss Parker wasted no time scooting over and nestling down into his side, her one arm stretched out across him, holding onto him frantically. She felt one arm encircle her shoulders while the other hand cradled the side of her head as it lay against his lower chest, and then began smoothing her hair back rhythmically and soothingly. "This is stupid. I feel so damned helpless," she said softly, in a voice that echoed with a deep sense of renewed shame at her vulnerability. "I'm behaving like a baby."  
  
The hand on her head paused for a moment, then resumed its gentle stroking of her hair. "No you're not. I know you feel helpless, but it isn't stupid," the lightly accented voice soothed back at her. "You can expect to take a while to get through this, but I promise you that it won't last forever - and that your reactions are normal ones for someone who has been through something this traumatic." He fell silent for a moment. "This is where you will need to be patient with yourself, as you work out some of what happened in your dreams and then bring it into your waking mind to be dealt with at last."  
  
"But I don't WANT to work it out in my dreams OR bring it into my waking mind, Syd," she said bitterly. "Its tearing me apart as it is."  
  
There was no good answer for him to give her for that, so Sydney just continued stroking her head gently in hopes that the comforting touch would soon help her calm down. He could feel that her breathing was getting ragged, and when the sensation of dampness came through the fabric of his pajama shirt, he knew that she was weeping again. His arm tightened around her, and the hand at her head stilled and simply held her tightly to him.  
  
"I don't know what I'm going to do," she managed finally, tears still obvious in her voice.   
  
"You'll survive," he answered her gently and firmly, in what he hoped was an encouraging tone she could hear as such. "You'll live through the nightmares, and you'll survive the memories - and eventually, you'll make peace with them and yourself."  
  
"But Sydney, I can't go to work like this. Lyle and Raines..."  
  
"You'll make it," he soothed. "We still have a day or so before I'm going to have to go back to work - and you're supposedly out stalking Jarod, so you have given yourself a little more time than that even. You didn't tell Lyle where you were going, or give any indication how long you were going to be gone. Let's just take it one day at a time, and you'll see that things will get better in time."   
  
"You make it sound so easy," she commented softly, her voice heavy with a note of defeat.   
  
"I think we both know it isn't going to be easy, Parker, for either of us," he responded gently but sadly. "And I told you I'm not going to lie to you just to make you feel better. We have our work cut out for us on this one - and from the look of things, it will get worse before it starts to get better. If you really are beginning to remember, we're going to have to work through the memories, no matter how ugly or painful. But we'll do it together, and we'll get through it." He heard her whimper a complaint, and his hand at her shoulder rubbed her back gently. "I know you don't want to, but trust me - those memories, no matter how terrible, will do you more harm if you try to repress them than if you face them straight on." He took a deep breath. "If there were any other way... And... perhaps... if you'd rather talk to someone else a little more objective..."  
  
"NO!!!" She shook her head vehemently against his chest. "I trust YOU."  
  
"I don't doubt that, Parker. I just wanted you to know that you won't hurt my feelings if you don't feel you want to talk about... that... with me..."  
  
"You're the only person I think I COULD talk about it with, but..." she tightened her arm around him, "I've never been so scared of anything in my life," she admitted with a hitch in her voice. "I don't think I'd be able to even consider trying if you weren't here to help me."  
  
Sydney bent his head and dropped a soft kiss on her forehead, where he knew she'd be able to feel it. "Well, I AM here, Parker, and I'll help you through this any way I can. I know you'll make it through this. I have faith in you."   
  
"I'm glad somebody does," she commented in a brittle tone.  
  
"I've known you too long NOT to have faith in you," he reassured her, his voice warm with caring. His hand began smoothing her hair back away from her face again in the comforting movement, and he let a soothing silence fall between them for a while. Then, "now close your eyes and rest, so we can both try to get some more sleep."  
  
He could feel her tighten up against him. "But, what if I start..."  
  
"I'm not going anywhere," he promised softly. "I'll be dozing right here next to you. If your dreams start distressing you, you'll awaken me - and I'll awaken you immediately, I promise. So you rest now."  
  
"I love you, Sydney," she breathed as she nestled herself against him, brought almost to tears again with gratitude. "I don't know what I'd do without you right now...  
  
"Shhhhhhh. I love you too, Parker. Go to sleep now. I'll keep you safe."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"This is Sydney."  
  
"How is she today?" Jarod's voice sounded even more tired than before.  
  
"At the moment, fast asleep on the couch in front of a warm fire. When was the last time you slept, Jarod? You sound exhausted still," the psychiatrist sighed. "How are YOU?"  
  
"There were traces of semen on the pajamas you gave me," Jarod sidestepped Sydney's question with ease. "The samples are being processed for DNA as we speak. We'll be able to check to see if her samples match those we've collected from some of the other victims, as well as anybody we arrest eventually, to make sure we get the right guys..."  
  
"Jarod, she remembers."  
  
The voice on the other end was stunned into silence for a long moment. "Oh, shit," Jarod finally said.   
  
"Yeah." Sydney's voice echoed his fatigue. "I know I told you she's asleep now - but the full truth is that I finally had to give her a sedative couple of hours ago just so she could rest. She had nightmares on and off all night long, even with me sitting with her, so neither of us got any real rest at all - and she's been a basket case all morning."  
  
"Shit," Jarod said again, then continued after another pause, "For what its worth, I slept about five hours after I left you last night. So you don't have to worry about me - you know I'm used to making do on five or six hours a night."   
  
"You're doing better than I am, then," the older man admitted then with a yawn.   
  
"That's what I figured, from the sound of your voice," Jarod worried at his old mentor, "and that's why I told you. You really don't need to worry about anybody else but Miss Parker and yourself right now. But humor me - you ARE going to take a nap while she's out, aren't you?"  
  
Sydney smiled tightly. "You have the timing of your calls and visits down pat. I was getting ready to do just that when you called, just like last time."  
  
"Then I'm going to let you go so you can rest," Jarod told him firmly. "I'll call again maybe around dinnertime. If she wakes up before I call, I'd like you to see if you can talk her into helping me later this evening to get a sketch of any faces she remembers."  
  
"I don't know, Jarod..." Sydney sounded hesitant. "She's not handling this well at all today..."  
  
"I can imagine," the Pretender said after a moment, finding the quick simulation of what she had been going through that day downright agonizing to consider, "but we need to take these monsters out of circulation before they actually kill someone. I promise I'll keep her name out of it, Syd. I had to kinda let the chief know that I was in touch with yet another victim - only this one wasn't willing to come forward yet - when I dropped off the clothing to forensics. But after he chewed me out a bit, he decided he was willing to stretch the rules some and accept the evidence I got from you if it would help nail these creeps any faster." Jarod paused. "I don't want to distress her anymore than necessary, but we really could use the eye witness description, Sydney."  
  
Sydney sighed heavily. "I'll do what I can, but I'm not going to promise anything. She's at a point now that getting her to even approach thinking about the memories that are bubbling up in her dreams puts her straight into hysterics. Even IF I can talk her into doing this, she still simply may not be up to the task for another day or so." He let his voice get firmly protective. "I'll let you know when she's ready, alright? We will not push her before she's able to deal with things. Understood?"  
  
He heard Jarod sigh on the other end. "Understood," the younger man agreed eventually. "In the meanwhile, let her know I'm doing the best I can, and that I'm really worried about her."  
  
"I'll tell her," Sydney said with a nod. "I'll talk to you later."  
  
Jarod disconnected the call, and Sydney dropped the cell phone into his vest pocket with a grimace. He doubted he'd even be able to begin to present Jarod's question to his guest today. He'd given her as much sedative as he'd dared, considering her injuries and weakened state, after she had gotten into such a state that she'd actually started to have trouble breathing during one of her fits of hysterics.   
  
He rounded the corner to the living room and took the time to pause next to the couch to adjust the afghan over her again before moving to the most comfortable of the easy chairs and sitting down heavily. He watched over her carefully for a while, noting that her dreams were again fretful ones when she shifted uncomfortably in her sleep and moaned and whimpered softly; but he knew that the sedative would keep her down for at least another two hours. Taking a deep and calming breath, he leaned his head back against the wingback of the chair and closed his eyes to take advantage of the respite. It would be too short, he knew; but there was little he could do about that....  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Miss Parker moaned softly and turned over, then opened her eyes slowly. The light in the living room was low, coming mostly from the gently burning fireplace. It was evening time, and she'd managed to awaken from a fairly restful sleep this time, rather than jerk awake from yet another agonizing reliving of her ordeal. "Sydney?" she called softly and hesitantly, not seeing him sitting in his regular comfortable chair, where she'd found him all the other times she had fallen asleep on the couch. "Sydney?" she called again a little more loudly when she received no reply except silence, a vague note of fright coloring her voice this time.  
  
"Sydney's upstairs, asleep. I chased him up to his own bedroom to get some uninterrupted rest for a while," a deeper voice sounded from the chair on the other side of the fireplace, and Jarod leaned forward into the flickering firelight. "And the only way I could get him to leave was that I promised him I would watch over you in his place until he came back down. He needed to get some rest before he fell to pieces on you himself."  
  
"Jarod!" She pulled back toward the back of the couch away from him as if burned. "You startled me!"  
  
He noted the movement and very deliberately settled back into the chair some so as to be as non-threatening to her as possible. "I'm sorry - I didn't mean to. Did you rest a little better this time? Syd said you've been battling nightmares all day..."  
  
"A little. How long have you been sitting there?" she asked him warily.  
  
He checked his watch with slow and deliberate movements. "About an hour now." He tipped his head at her. "Listen, Syd also told me you hadn't eaten today at all. Can I make you a sandwich - bring you a small dish of ice cream? If you want some tea..."  
  
"No, thank you."   
  
"I mean it," Jarod insisted very gently, slowly sitting forward again. "Syd was so worried about your not eating today at all that I had to also promise him I'd convince you to take at least a little something, no matter how un-nutritious it might prove to be. Please don't make me break my promise..."  
  
Miss Parker sighed. "Sydney can be quite the mother hen when he puts his mind to it, can't he?"  
  
"That's one of the Centre's best-kept secrets, I think. Believe me when I tell you that you're just finding out now what I've known first hand for years," Jarod chuckled at her. "So, what would you like?"  
  
"Surprise me," she said suddenly, throwing a hand up in unconcern and waving him off. Then, when Jarod moved to get to his feet, she flinched away from his movement and shrank back as far as she could into the corner of the couch.  
  
"Parker," he said, putting his hands out towards her and taking a step forward. "I'm not going to hurt you - you know that..." He took another step. "It's me - Jarod. I'm your friend, remember?" He slowly stretched out one hand to her, stopping at a point where she could clearly see she was still out of his reach. "C'mon, Parker - do you honestly think that Syd would leave you in my care if he didn't trust me? Can't you trust me too, just a little?"  
  
The grey eyes were wide and frightened, but she blinked and obviously was trying to get her wildly careening emotions under control. "I'm sorry, Jarod," she said, tearing up. "I know... you wouldn't... I just..." She put her face in her hands. "I'm sorry..."  
  
The Pretender moved very slowly and carefully closer to her, then seated himself on the edge of the coffee table still without having touched her. "Parker," he called gently. "Look at me." He had to repeat himself several times before she finally obeyed. "You don't need to apologize - I'm not angry at you for being frightened. You were expecting Sydney to be with you, and you got me instead - and right now, you're sensitive about such things. Right?" He waited, and finally she nodded. "Do you think you'll be OK with me for a while, so Sydney can get some rest - or do you need me to wake him up?"  
  
Miss Parker's first inclination was to ask that Sydney be awakened; but as she thought about it, she realized that Jarod was really acting in both Sydney's and her best interests by standing in for the psychiatrist temporarily while he got the rest he needed. Considering everything the older man had done for her, and how much she had come to depend upon him, she needed to trust in Jarod just a little so that Sydney could get his rest. "No," she answered finally. "Let him sleep. I've put him through hell these last few..."  
  
He was glad to see that her mind was at least clear enough that she could consider her host's welfare as well as her own. "I'm sure he would be quick to tell you not to worry about that part of it. He cares for you - a lot - I don't think he has it in him to NOT do everything he can for you. I just want to make sure he doesn't overdo in the process, and then not be able to help himself OR you in an emergency."   
  
Jarod could see that his words were both a comfort and distressing. "Thanks, Jarod. I'm glad he has someone watching over him, because I'm in no shape to do it myself right now." She frowned. "I should never have allowed him to carry me around..."  
  
"So, can I go bring you something in here to eat, then - or do you want to come into the kitchen with me and eat it there?" Jarod asked gently, nudging her thoughts away from more painful considerations for the time being.  
  
"Sydney made me promise yesterday not to move around anymore than necessary," she answered him softly, almost ashamedly. "The doctor who saw me ordered complete bed rest for at least two days."  
  
"That makes sense," he responded with a nod, "and I'm glad you aren't pushing it too hard and following doctor's orders, because the rest will help you heal faster. OK - I'll bring the treat in here. But will you be alright by yourself for a few minutes while I make up something for you?"  
  
Her brow crinkled, but she bit her lip and nodded at him. As scary as it was being around someone other than Sydney, being left alone was an even more frightening prospect. "You're just going to the kitchen, right?" she hedged.  
  
"I'll be back in just a couple of minutes," he promised. "If you want, I can talk to you from there, just so you know I'm still here..."  
  
She settled back a little more comfortably against her pillows with a sigh. "That would help. Thanks." She watched him get slowly to his feet, appreciating that he was trying not to move suddenly and startle her again. "You must be crazy, spending so much time this close to the Centre," she commented toward his receding back.  
  
"Sometimes it can be more effective to hide right in plain sight, right under the noses of those who are doing the looking," his voice floated out to her. "Right now, Lyle is in Miami, chasing dust spooks and phantom Roto-Rooter men."  
  
"Poetic," she commented dryly, grateful to discuss something on a completely different tangent entirely, "to send a man who is a snake after the ghost of a man WITH a snake..."  
  
"For someone whom Sydney said has spent the better part of the day in hysterics, your sense of humor is in fine form this evening," came the deep voice. "You always were one of the few people who could ever SEE my poetic gestures for what they were and appreciate them." The voice had drawn closer again, and Jarod re-entered the living room carrying a tall glass from which protruded a straw and the top of a spoon handle. He handed it over carefully after approaching her within her circle of vision so as not to startle. "Root beer float - one half nutrition, three quarters sin. One hundred percent delicious. Bon apetit."  
  
"Oh, goodness! I haven't had one of these since I was a kid," Miss Parker commented with a small smile, then sipped at the drink appreciatively.   
  
"I can't imagine knowing what they're like and NOT having one every once in a while," Jarod admitted with boyish enthusiasm.   
  
"Momma and I would get them on Friday afternoons, when she'd pick me up from school for the weekends. There was this little Dairy Queen stand just off the highway - no chairs, just the stand - and when the weather was getting warmer, toward summer, we'd walk over there..." Miss Parker's grey eyes grew soft with the memory, then suddenly filled with tears. She immediately dropped her gaze to the glass in her hands.  
  
Jarod sat down quickly next to her, grimacing when she still couldn't restrain herself from a slight flinch at the sudden movement. "What's the matter?" he asked gently, reaching out a hand and laying it ever so gently on a shoulder.  
  
"Nothing," her tone was flat, and she kept her gaze firmly fixed to the contents of her glass and played with the edges of the floating ice cream with her spoon.  
  
"Hey," he said when he saw a tear fall to a cheek despite her assurance, "this isn't nothing." He caught the tear on his forefinger. "You can talk to me too... If you want to, that is..."  
  
Her eyes flicked up to peek at him from a face across which many conflicting emotions danced in random chaos. "It's just really hard, you know...?" she began, finding nothing but openness in the expression of her former best friend.  
  
"What's hard, Parker?"  
  
She looked back down into her drink in humiliation. "Realizing I'm an emotional basket case and practically a bed-ridden invalid because I couldn't even defend myself, after all those years of training. It's hard thinking how disappointed Momma would be in me..."  
  
Jarod's hand at her shoulder moved to cup a cheek and turn her face so that she was once again obliged to look at him. "Now you listen to me, Parker. Do NOT blame yourself for this. I've read the reports; I know how these clowns have been operating. You couldn't have defended yourself - you wouldn't have been given a chance to even try."  
  
"That shouldn't have mattered," she mumbled obstinately.  
  
"Bullshit. You're not being fair to yourself - and if you were thinking more clearly, you'd see that too. From all indications, you're damned lucky to just be alive." Jarod's voice was firm and unconvinced, but he could see he hadn't reached her. "Alright, answer me this then: what does Sydney have to say about it?"  
  
Miss Parker couldn't meet his gaze. "I haven't..."  
  
"You haven't talked to him at all yet," he finished for her. "Why? Don't you trust him?"  
  
Her face a study in shame. "He's the only one I DO trust completely right now; and I told him he was the only one I'd be able to talk to when the time came. But now I'm so afraid that he'll start to hate me when he finds out everything that happened... How I didn't defend myself..." She looked up at him, a tear running down a cheek. "And now, look at me - I'm all ugly, inside and out. I don't know how either of you can stand to look at me, and I don't think I could face having him reject me..."  
  
"That will never happen, COULD never happen," Jarod shook his head vehemently. "If there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that Sydney could never hate you - certainly not over any part of this." He saw her shake her head disbelievingly. "You don't think so? My God, you should have heard him when I brought him your stuff last night! He may be one of the most mild-mannered men I've ever known, but he's not only capable of but ready to commit murder over this. I'm going to have to make sure he's nowhere near when we collar these monsters, because I'm not sure he wouldn't kill them himself with his bare hands." Jarod dropped his hand from her shoulder and studied it carefully. "Of course, he'd probably have to take a number, because I'd be ahead of him in line for that privilege."  
  
"Maybe he'd have done that for me before," she shook her head insistently, "but if he knew what they did - what I let them do... if you knew..."  
  
Jarod looked up at her sharply again. "You didn't LET them do anything. You know that."  
  
"I could have fought back! I could have..."  
  
"You could have what? I told you I've read the reports and findings in the case so far; I know what state you probably were in at the time. Fact: you were drugged, Parker - I'm surprised you were conscious at all. And even if your mind was functioning somewhat, your body was debilitated. You know the effects of chloroform as well as I do..."  
  
She burst into tears. "I don't know why you keep insisting that it wasn't my fault. Can't you see..."  
  
Jarod moved to the edge of the couch, where he put both hands on her shoulders. "Can't I see what, Parker? I see you, a little bruised and battered around the edges, but still YOU..."  
  
"But I'm not me anymore, Jarod. I'm... damaged... flawed... ugly..." Her voice wavered as she denounced herself harshly.   
  
Very carefully, but very insistently, Jarod pulled on Miss Parker until she was finally leaning on his shoulder. Then he put his arms around her as he imagined Sydney had hundreds of times over the past two days. "Listen to me. You are injured, not permanently damaged. A bruise or a drugged response is not a flaw. And despite the visible bruising, you're still one of the most beautiful women I know." He felt her draw a ragged breath and shake her head a little less convincingly than before. "What's more, you have a power that the other women they attacked don't possess - a power nobody else in this world possesses."  
  
He felt her breathing hesitate, and then she pulled back so she could look into his face. "What do you mean, I have a power?"  
  
He cupped her face in his hand. "I mean that you have the knowledge of what they look like - what their voices sound like. That knowledge, in the hands of folks like myself and the police, will get those animals caught like rats in a trap." He smiled grimly. "You can get some of your own back in the end, knowing they'll be stuck for the rest of their lives in little tiny rooms with bars - and YOU are the one person right now with the power to put them there permanently."  
  
Her eyes filled with fear. "Jarod, I don't think..." She seemed to shrink away from his hold and back into the couch's cushions.  
  
"Not right away, I know," he amended immediately, loosening his arms and letting her leave him completely. "I'm not suggesting you do anything now. Frankly, I want you in a far better place emotionally than you are now before you even think of trying any of this. You need to talk to Sydney - and I mean REALLY talk to him - and you need to do that long before you sit down with any sketch artist. I just wanted to sow a seed - to let you know that you are in a position of power, for whenever you feel up to exercising it."   
  
He reached out for her empty hand and held it as if it incredibly fragile. "All I ask is that you think about it, OK? The moment Miss Parker starts feeling more like Miss Parker again, call me - and I'll help you show those bastards a thing or three." His eyes darkened dangerously. "One of the things I've learned since I got away from The Centre and started doing the work I've done is that payback, when properly administered, can be a real bitch."  
  
She gave him a very small smile. "I'll think about it," she promised softly, then busied herself with her drink.  
  
Jarod nodded, satisfied. "That's all I ask." He backed up slightly on his seat, as if disconnecting from that entire discussion to give it even more of a feeling of completion. "Maybe I can interest you in a game of chess, as long as you're awake?" he asked, pointing down at the alabaster set he had scooted aside to sit on the coffee table.   
  
Miss Parker sucked hard on the straw and finally found herself noisily drawing air, then nodded. "That sounds like a good idea - I just don't know that I have the energy to make it through an entire game."  
  
Jarod stood slowly. "That's not a problem - we'll just ask Syd not to mess with our men until we can finish our game later, then." He grinned at her boyishly. "And how about I give you a refill on your root beer and turn on at least one more light so we can see?" He stretched out a hand, and she handed over her glass with very little hesitation.   
  
While he was in the kitchen, she sat up and moved some of the comfortable pillows she'd been laying on to where they supported her back. She put out a coaster on the table for her drink, then quickly set out another when she noticed Jarod with two glasses in his hands this time when he returned. He put the glasses down, then stepped over to where he could flip the light switch that lit the lamps in the room, then dragged the easy chair he'd been sitting in earlier over to just across the coffee table from her.  
  
Miss Parker had taken one pawn of each color behind her back, and then stretched out her hands for him to pick one. He tapped her right hand, grinned when he got the darker pawn, then set his piece down. She followed suit, then looked up at him with chagrin. "I suppose there is some truth in mentioning that I must be nuts to think I stand a chance in hell of giving a genius much of a challenge..."  
  
"Just play the game, Parker. You've never disappointed me yet in the challenge department," he responded, a gently sly and playful grin tweaking the edges of his lips.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Sydney descended the stairs yawning and scratching his head. He really had needed that rest Jarod had insisted on his taking, and from the looks of the light of daybreak filtering through the frosted glass in his front door, he'd rested far longer than he'd originally intended. He paused at the living room door, then peeked over the edge of the couch to check on Miss Parker, who was curled up and sleeping peacefully. Jarod, however, was nowhere to be seen in the living room, although he could hear the sound of water running in the kitchen. He followed the sound after reassuring himself that his injured guest truly was fast and restfully asleep and safe to leave alone, however briefly.  
  
Jarod met him coming through the kitchen door into the dining room after turning off the light in the back of the house, wiping his wet hands on his black jeans. "Ah. You're up."  
  
"Has she rested all this time?" Sydney asked quietly, jerking his head in the direction of the living room and its sleeping occupant.  
  
"Nope. She woke up about an hour or so after you went down. We talked for a while, I got her to have a root beer float and some more root beer later, and we played about half-way through a game of chess before she caved in again." Jarod smiled. "But she woke up normally - no nightmare that time."  
  
Sydney sighed, somewhat relieved, then rubbed his itching nose. "How long ago did she drop off again?"  
  
"About an hour ago," Jarod informed him. "I thought I'd at least rinse out the glasses I'd dirtied for you before I woke you and took off. I'm going to have to get at least a little sleep myself before I go back to work."  
  
"So, no hysterics tonight, no tears?"  
  
The younger man's face fell slightly. "Well, no hysterics at least - but we had our tense moments and tears at first. You're right - she's very emotionally fragile right now. I'm hoping I gave her a nudge in the right direction to remedy that a bit - although you had better be prepared to hear her story and not react much in the listening. With any luck, it will happen sooner than later."  
  
Sydney frowned. "What do you mean?"  
  
"I think a lot of the reason she was in such bad shape yesterday was because she wanted and knew she needed to talk to you, but had convinced herself that if you knew everything that happened to her, you'd reject her." Jarod sighed tiredly. "She's terrified of that, and I think that terror has been feeding the nightmares. She has had two things to fear rather than just the one, and they were eating her alive."  
  
The older man nodded. "I was afraid that might have been going on, but I didn't have any handle yet on how to open the door to helping her overcome that without being as invasive psychologically as her attackers had been physically - and I couldn't do that to her... How'd you go about convincing her she should talk to me about what happened, then?"  
  
"I told her that she needed to really talk to you before she came to me to give me a description to take to a sketch artist," Jarod told him  
  
"Jarod!" Sydney's voice got low, quiet and more heavily accented as he got angrier at the younger man than he'd been at anyone in a very long time. "I thought I told you..."  
  
Jarod put up deflective hands in the face of his former mentor's wrath. "Whoa!! Relax, Syd. I just planted the seed in her mind that the knowledge she has is really a source of power for her. I let her know that she has the key that will put those animals in prison for a long time, and I wanted her to see that knowledge - all those horrible memories - AS potential power that's hers to command, and not a liability. The attitude she has towards those memories will make the difference between her being able to deal with them and not."   
  
Sydney's protective ire defused quickly and visibly, much to Jarod's relief, and he nodded his agreement finally. "You're right - I just hadn't expected the subject to come up with her as quickly as it evidently did."  
  
Jarod sighed inwardly. The last thing he needed to be doing was upsetting Sydney. "Besides," he continued, "I told her in so many words that I wanted her in a much better place emotionally before we try any official remembering - and that she needed to talk to you to get to that better place before anything else. I didn't push her about making a statement or talking to an artist, Sydney; I promised you I wouldn't, so I didn't. I only mentioned the artist."  
  
"OK," Sydney sighed, again relieved and willing to back down, "I'll keep the same approach going about the memories, then - good thinking. The more she can start to feel in control of her life again, the better."  
  
"My thoughts exactly. I was also thinking just now that you might also suggest that if or when she DOES begin to talk about the details of what happened, you tape what she says so she doesn't have to repeat herself either to me or the police," Jarod suggested. "It will be hard enough for her to go through once - any repetition we can save her, the better for her frame of mind."  
  
"If you two wouldn't mind bringing your discussion in here," Miss Parker's voice floated out to them from the living room, "I'd appreciate taking part in it."  
  
Jarod and Sydney gazed at each other, neither of them sure whether to be chagrined, frustrated or glad she was awake again once more without it being a nightmare waking her. Jarod shrugged, and Sydney nodded in response, and together they walked back through the house. Sydney walked around the edge of the couch and sat down next to Miss Parker and deposited a kiss on her forehead. "Jarod said you'd gone back to sleep," he said gently. "You need your rest..."  
  
"I was asleep," she admitted, "but I've gotten so used to having a quiet house, that the sound of your discussion in the kitchen roused me. Besides, my ears were burning - you two were talking about me. So I figured I had a right to insist on being included."  
  
"I was just filling Syd in on what you and I discussed earlier," Jarod explained quickly, slowly moving the chessboard aside carefully and finding a seat on the coffee table again. "Now that Syd's up and taking care of you again, I'm going to take off now, so I can rest a little too. I just wanted him to know everything we discussed, so that we'd all be reading from the same page."  
  
Miss Parker reached out a hand to her best friend. "Thanks, Jarod, for staying with me."  
  
He took the hand and chafed it between his hands gently. "You do what we talked about, Parker. I think you'll feel much better for it afterwards." He said very softly, then leaned slowly forward past Sydney and dropped a kiss of his own on her cheek. "Goodnight." He then shook hands with his old mentor. "Take good care of her, and take care of yourself too," he said as he drew on his signature leather jacket, then added, "and by the way, don't move the chessmen around. Miss Parker and I have a game to finish, one of these days."  
  
Sydney glanced down at the board and assessed the game positions, then looked up at Jarod in surprise. "Whose move it is?"  
  
"Hers." "Mine." the two of them answered simultaneously. Miss Parker was the one to finish explaining. "I just couldn't keep my eyes open."  
  
Sydney just chuckled and shook his head at the two of them. "I'll make sure the game stays as it is until you get a chance to finish it, then," he assured them both.  
  
"Thanks," Jarod said with a smile, then hugged his mentor quickly and tightly and took his leave out the back door of the house.  
  
Sydney turned back to his guest. "Now that the house is quiet again, do you think you can get some more sleep?"  
  
"No," she answered him, struggling to sit up properly again on the couch and then swinging her legs carefully over the edge. "I have a better idea. Do you think I can convince you to make us some coffee instead?"  
  
"Coffee?" Sydney frowned. "What's going on?"  
  
"I really don't want to try to sleep again until we talk. Really talk." Her grey eyes had grown huge, the apprehension in them obvious. "Much as I don't really want to..."  
  
"Jarod SAID he didn't push..." Sydney shook his head quickly. "Look, if you don't feel ready..."  
  
"He didn't push, Sydney. But it isn't going to be a question of 'feeling ready' - the thing is, if I wait until I 'feel ready', I'll never do it." Miss Parker's gaze was firm, despite her obvious trepidation. "I want to get it over and done with, and hopefully Jarod is right that I'll start the healing process inside when I don't have to dread it anymore."  
  
He nodded slowly. "Alright, then," he said, sounding totally unconvinced but willing. "Do you want to talk in here, or out in the kitchen?"  
  
"In here. It's more comfortable."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Sydney seated himself in the chair that Jarod had vacated across the coffee table from her and set the tape recorder between the full mugs of coffee. "Now, you remember that if you get a point where you want me to turn this off..."  
  
"I know," Miss Parker nodded, feeling half sick to her stomach from fear and a desire to just run away from what she was intending to do. She moved her head, pointing with her nose. "Turn it on."  
  
He pushed the record button and then settled back into his chair cradling his coffee mug in his hands as if it would shield him from what he was about to hear.   
  
"I... I don't remember much from before... when they broke into my bedroom," she started very softly. "They woke me up when they put that cloth over my face."  
  
"Do you remember the smell?" he asked gently, then continued when she nodded. "Do you know what chemical they used?"  
  
"Chloroform," she announced in a sure voice. "I've used it myself a couple of times and almost put myself out. It's not a smell you forget easily."  
  
"What do you remember next?" he asked quietly.  
  
Miss Parker picked up her coffee and sipped at it slowly, marshalling her emotional control. "The... next thing I knew, I was... on the floor, I think... in my living room. They were... laughing... I could hear... breaking glass. I think they were ransacking my china cabinet. I... couldn't move..." The tears just started flowing down her cheeks. "Then one of them... I think his friend called him Lou... said that time was a-wasting... and he came over to me..." She gulped, then sipped at her coffee again.  
  
"You're doing fine," Sydney reassured her gently. "Take your time."  
  
Her gaze had turned inward, seeing things that only she could remember and being horrified by the sight. "He... tore at my pajamas... and he... he... got on top of me..." She gulped again and glanced up at Sydney with a face totally devoid of color. "I tried to push him off of me... my arms were so heavy... and he grabbed me around the neck... and his friend kicked at my arms... and then he..." She was crying openly now. "I kept screaming... and his friend kept kicking me... and he... when he... he squeezed my throat..." Her sobbing had gotten so wrenching that she put her mug back down on the table. She waved her hand at the tape recorder, and Sydney hit the pause button immediately.  
  
He rose and fetched a box of tissues and handed her one, then seated himself next to her and put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into him. She buried her face in his chest, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her without a word to let her cry herself out.   
  
While he had thought that he was ready for whatever she had to say, forcing himself to sit through her stumbling narrative without reacting was proving sheer torture. Still, he knew that only steady stoicism would give her the firm emotional support that she'd need to finish her story of horror - and she desperately needed to tell her story before both the memories and not knowing his reaction to them could destroy her from within. Holding her close was as much of a necessary break for him as it was for her, only he dared not loosen his tight control on his emotions. Not yet.  
  
When he could feel that the sobbing had finally abated again, he smoothed the hair back from her face. "Are you going to be able to finish?" he asked her gently.  
  
"If I don't finish now, I don't think I ever will," she managed finally through the end of her tears.   
  
"Do you want me to sit here, or go back over there?" Sydney pointed at the easy chair across the table.  
  
"What do you want to do?" she asked in return, afraid to look at him. That he even could suggest moving away again felt like a distancing, a mild rejection - only she'd come far enough to know that this perception could be an illusion in her own mind. She needed to know...  
  
He put a gentle finger beneath her chin and lifted until she was looking at him anyway. "This isn't about me, Parker. If you want me to stay here, say so; if you want me over there, say so. I'll do as you ask. One way or the other, I'm here for you wherever you need me to be."  
  
"Will you stay here, next to me?" she asked in a very small, frightened voice, leaning again.  
  
He kissed her forehead. "Of course I will," he soothed, moving his hand to cradle her head again against his chest. "Just let me know when you want me to turn the tape back on, OK?"  
  
She nodded against him, weak with gratitude that he still was there with her despite everything; and finally she let one arm slip around him to hold onto him a little. When she finally felt she had herself back in control, she pushed against him to sit up straighter again and whispered, "Turn it back on." Sydney leaned forward and did as she said while still keeping hold of one of her hands for support.  
  
"What happened then?" he asked.  
  
"Then... the other guy... Lou got up and the other guy... began to... while Lou held my arms up... every time I made a sound, he'd slap me... called me a 'bitch' and 'whore' and 'cunt'... and when... when this other guy... was... had... Lou had got... something... from somewhere... and..." She gasped back another sob. "Oh God, Sydney, they hurt me... inside... and they were laughing every time I screamed..."  
  
She was sobbing again, and Sydney leaned forward and paused the tape and then wrapped her tightly in his arms again. "It's alright," he soothed at her, unable to prevent tears from pouring down his own face any longer. "They can't hurt you anymore."  
  
"I'm so sorry, Sydney!" she sobbed so hard she was having trouble catching her breath. "I'm so sorry..."  
  
"Sweetheart, you didn't do anything wrong," he reminded her firmly, bending his head down so that his wet cheek lay against her hair. "You have nothing to apologize for..."  
  
"But I didn't defend myself... I let them..."   
  
"Hush," he whispered into her ear. "Stop that. You're not to blame here... You couldn't have..."  
  
"Don't hate me..." She was nearly cringing in terror. "Please don't hate me..."  
  
"I don't hate you, Parker." He moved his arms to hold her just a little bit tighter. "You don't have to ever worry about that - I love you, remember?" He kissed her forehead again and then moved back to hold her face between his hands to emphasize what he was saying. He wanted her to see the conviction in his face, so that maybe she'd believe him at last. "I love you, Little One. Do you hear me? Nothing you've said here could possibly change that, EVER!"  
  
Miss Parker was caught and held by the expression in those piercing chestnut eyes. More than that, she was nearly overwhelmed by the relief that washed through her very being from hearing him utter that very old and forgotten endearment, one that he'd used for her regularly when she was a very young child but that she hadn't heard in decades. The fear she had been living with for two days - fear that the man who now meant more to her than anyone else in the world would reject her once he knew what she'd been through - seemed to evaporate like a cloud of fog with those two words. She took a long and ragged breath and finally let herself begin to believe that she was, truly and at long last, safe, protected - loved unconditionally.  
  
Sydney pulled her close again and held her quietly for a while, letting her calm down, then wiped at his face with one hand and leaned forward to the tape recorder once more to unpause it. "Let's finish this now. Do you remember anything after that?"  
  
"No," she said in a voice that had grown much more stable in that short span of time. "I think I passed out from the pain. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in a snow bank across the street from your house - you know the rest."  
  
"You say one's name was Lou - did you ever hear Lou address the other man by name?"  
  
She shook her head. "No."  
  
"Do you remember anything else you think might be of help? Distinguishing marks, unusual clothing..."  
  
"Not now," she pushed herself tighter against him with a shudder. "I don't want to think about what they looked like, Sydney - not now... please..."  
  
Sydney turned the tape recorder off with a click. "Then that's it," he announced, and proceeded to wrap her in his arms tightly again. "You're finished now. It's over."  
  
"I was so afraid," she started, her voice shaking, "that you would be... that you'd begin to hate me... that you'd be disappointed... if you knew..."  
  
"I know you were," he told her, "Jarod told me this was what you were going through, but to be honest, I'd already figured out what was going on. This kind of reaction often happens to women who are attacked as you were. I'm just glad Jarod convinced you to talk to me and face your fear before it destroyed you. I wasn't sure how to do that without being as hard on you..." He sighed. "Sweetheart, I don't want you to be afraid anymore - not of the memories, and certainly not of my reaction to all of this." He laid his cheek against her head. "And I want you to know that I'm veerry proud of you for being able to finally tell me all of this. I love you so much..."  
  
"Syd..." She drew in a jagged breath at the contrary notion that instead of being rejected, he could possibly be proud of her actually retelling her story. "I still feel... dirty... like I could have done something... like I failed... you... myself..."  
  
"I know," he soothed softly. "That's natural, Parker. The next big job you face is going to be to forgive yourself for being human, for being the victim. Being a victim isn't a crime. I promise you that you've done nothing to require MY forgiveness, even though I know you won't believe me for a while yet."  
  
"I'm so sorry, Sydney."  
  
"Hush, sweetheart. If I tell you that it's alright, and do it often enough, maybe you will learn that you can tell yourself the same thing one day. I promise you, all the horrible things that those... monsters... did to you didn't change who you are to me..." He kissed her forehead yet again. "Nothing you've said could ever change that."  
  
He felt her arms slide around his waist and hold onto him tightly and then felt a new touch of wet warmth through his shirt that said that she was weeping again. But her body was no longer so taut and tense in his arms, and he knew that her tears this time were tears of relief. "You'll be OK now, Parker," he whispered at her over and over again.  
  
"I'm so tired," she sighed finally, once there were no more tears to shed and she was left laying depleted and yet subtly and fundamentally restored against Sydney's chest.  
  
"Sleep then. That was hard work, reliving that hell - I'd be surprised if you weren't exhausted. Here, lay down," Sydney said as he released his hold on her and then rose so that she could swing her legs back up onto the couch. He spread the ever-present afghan over her yet again and tucked her in. "No more nightmares this time, though," he announced firmly, fingering back a wayward lock of dark hair from her forehead.  
  
The grey eyes that looked up into his were puffy and red from crying, but the expression in them was far more calm and settled than they'd been in days. "No more nightmares," she agreed, then closed her eyes obediently. Sydney sat guard over her until he could see that her breathing had deepened into truly restful sleep, then he rose slowly and heavily shuffled out of the living room and back toward the kitchen. He paused there for a moment, then continued out the garage door and flipped on the stark overhead light before closing the door into the house tightly.  
  
Only when he knew he was far enough out of earshot, that there was both distance and a closed door between himself and his sleeping guest, did he finally release the tight control he'd been keeping on his emotions. With one hand over his mouth at first to prevent any sounds from disturbing his sleeping guest, he painfully ground out his own bitter sobs of anguish and rage at the horrors Miss Parker had somehow survived and then managed to recount in stark detail. The strength of his despair struck him in the gut and bent him over double, eventually driving him to his knees with his forehead on the cold cement. He pounded the sides of his fists repeatedly into the hard cement in frustrated impotence, wishing desperately that it was the faces and bodies of those who had committed such an outrage that were receiving his blows. He growled and sobbed and pounded and raged until he was utterly worn and exhausted. With his long-postponed tantrum of grief at an end at last, he dragged himself to the shallow step in front of the kitchen door and sat there like a puppet with his strings cut. A final wave of unstoppable tears flowed unrestrained down his face to drip from his chin.  
  
Not since his days in Dachau had he felt so helpless in the face of the torture of a loved one. But unlike Dachau, the one he loved had not only survived the horrors, but was struggling to overcome and deal with what had happened to her. He owed her no less than the same level of effort himself. As he wiped away his tears finally, he promised himself that, if it were the last thing he'd ever do, he would see her whole again. He would help her find or give her back as much of the old Miss Parker spirit again as he humanly could, and God help anyone who got in his way.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Miss Parker opened her eyes slowly, then pulled the afghan a little higher over her shoulder. It was chilly in the living room with no fire burning, and she wondered how Sydney could sleep so peacefully in his easy chair across the table from her without a sweater or vest. It was only partly light outside the picture window - and for the life of her, she couldn't tell whether it was sunset or another sunrise. The only thing she could do is look up at the grandfather clock against an opposite wall, which read 5:40 in the dim light.  
  
She turned her head back and studied the face of the psychiatrist across from her, then frowned. Her ordeal had been no more easy for him than it had been for her, it seemed - the lines in his face seemed deeper, more engraved. He had aged perceivably in the few days since she'd arrived bleeding and incoherent on his doorstep. She was glad, then, that he still slumbered. Maybe the rest would do him as much good as it seemed to have done her.   
  
Cautiously she moved the afghan aside, sitting up and swinging her legs to the floor with far less aching and muscle burning than before. She ran her fingers through tangled hair and wondered if Jarod had remembered to pack her hairbrush in the suitcase he'd brought for her - was it one or two days ago? Between the nightmares and recuperative naps and long emotion-charged talks with Sydney, she'd lost complete track of time. She looked down at the button-down dress shirt and sweat pants that she'd been wearing since her first night there, and she rubbed at her nose and wondered if she might actually have the stamina to take a quick shower while her host still slept.   
  
She tried to get to her feet from the couch by herself, felt the tearing and burning start up afresh in her left calf almost immediately from the exertion, and settled back into the cushions mildly disappointed. She really did want to shower and freshen up, not to mention her moving around had put her body on notice that it could begin to make bathroom needs urgent again. After looking around her and thinking for a moment, she scooted to the very end of the couch and used the act of scooting up onto the arm to lift her backside up into the air far enough that she could gain her feet with a minimum of effort. She limped slowly and carefully to the downstairs bath, where she could at least take care of the more urgent needs, and closed the door.  
  
Sydney finally roused as the chill in the room began to penetrate his sleep. When his eyes finally focussed, he could see that the couch was uninhabited, the afghan tossed back. He straightened and stretched painfully, feeling the hours of sleeping in the easy chair manifest in the stiffness in his neck and back, then shivered. The light was dim - what little there was came through the sheer curtains at his large picture window - but as he concentrated, he could see the light was growing slowly and steadily dimmer. With a yawn, he rousted himself from his chair and moved to flip on the lights and then begin cleaning away the cold ashes to make room for a new fire.  
  
"I didn't awaken you, did I?" he heard Miss Parker's voice from behind him, and he turned to look over his shoulder at her in the doorway.  
  
"No, the cold got to me. I thought I'd at least warm up the room a little for the rest of the evening."  
  
"Ah," he saw her nod. "I wasn't sure if it was dawn or sunset. I think I've just about lost track of my days and nights."  
  
"I'm not surprised. How are you feeling?" he asked, casting an assessing eye on her posture and expressive face.   
  
Miss Parker moved very carefully but with a painful-looking limp to seat herself on the arm of the couch. "Better. Rested. Almost human." She studied him back. "How about you?"  
  
Sydney stretched his neck out again. "A little stiff from sleeping several hours in that chair," he pointed, "but otherwise better, thanks. Are you getting hungry at all yet?"  
  
She blinked. "Now that you mention it, my stomach does have a hollow feel to it."   
  
"Well, let me get this fire going, and I'll..."  
  
"C'mon, Sydney," she chided him gently, sounding just a little bit like her old self again. "Why don't we just order in Chinese and save you some work for a change?"  
  
Sydney turned and stared at her. "You really ARE hungry for a change!"  
  
"About time, don't you think?" she responded with a sideways smile.  
  
The delight that spread across his face at the beginnings of a sense of banter between them was almost as warming as the fire he was building would be soon, and he could tell Miss Parker was basking in their new closeness shamelessly. "Indeed!" he answered wholeheartedly, then turned back to his fire-building. "How about you call in the order? I'll have cashew chicken, you order whatever you want. Have it delivered."  
  
She rose carefully to her feet and made her way to the kitchen and the telephone and phone book she knew he kept there. In just a few minutes, she'd placed their order and provided directions for the food to be delivered as soon as possible. She limped back into the living room to find Sydney rising from a now glowing fireplace.   
  
He gazed at her, standing in the arch of his living room, with an expression of fondness softening his face. "It's good to see you up a little bit, Parker - but don't overdo it, or you'll have to answer to Dr. Armant. You don't need to start bleeding again..."  
  
"I couldn't overdo with this torn muscle even if I wanted to," she shook her head at him. She limped over to him and let him enfold her in a gentle hug, enfolding him back and relaxing with a contented sigh against him. "You ARE a mother hen, Sydney," she teased him gently, brushing a cheek with her lips. "Even Jarod said your clucking was one of the best-held secrets at The Centre."  
  
"Excuse me. I'll have you know that I only cluck over you two," he chuckled and let her go again so she could reclaim her post on the elevated arm of his couch while he leaned nonchalantly against the mantle. "You and Jarod have always been as important to me as if you were my own, so pardon me for feeling a little protective."  
  
Miss Parker gazed at him with undisguised fondness. "You won't be hearing me complain about it, Syd - and from the sounds of it, Jarod doesn't mind all that much either. Frankly, I don't think I've ever appreciated anybody's clucking so much in my life as I have yours lately."  
  
"Am I to assume that I have permission to continue clucking?" he asked with greyed eyebrows climbing his forehead over amused chestnut eyes.   
  
"Within reason, absolutely," she replied with an equally amused expression. She reached out from her perch and snagged the afghan from where it lay draped across the back of the couch and began folding it. When she looked up again, her gaze was more serious. "Sydney, do you think I'm well enough yet to..."  
  
Sydney gazed back at her evenly. "Uh-unh. I'd really rather you stayed down and quiet for at least one more day or maybe even two before even beginning to think about going in to work. You have a couple of issues it would be better to deal with first. For one thing, you're going to have to get used to the idea of being around other people - other men, especially - without cringing every time one of them gets close or moves too quickly. Especially with folks like Lyle," he watched her swallow hard and nod, "and Raines. They'll notice..."  
  
"I know," she said softly.   
  
"Maybe we can ask Jarod to come over sometime tomorrow and give us a hand with that," he suggested, keeping an eye on her expression. "I noticed you were having some trouble with him, even though you were trying very hard to hide it this morning."  
  
"I'm sorry," she said even more softly, placing the folded afghan back on the couch and then looking down at the floor.  
  
Sydney sighed and walked over to stand next to her, then placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. "Stop that. You're having a normal reaction to certain events around you that will take time to overcome, Parker. Stop apologizing for everything. I tell you these things just as points of information, not as criticisms, OK?"  
  
"OK." She put her hand over his on her shoulder, then looked up into his face. "I don't make a very good 'Ice Queen' right now, do I?"  
  
He bent forward and kissed her forehead gently. "That's OK. That's something else we can work on over the next day or so." He gazed at her with a quirky smile tweaking at the corners of his mouth. "Who'd have ever thought I'd have to teach you how to behave like a bitch again?"  
  
He could tell he'd bolstered her faltering ego again when she returned the quirky smile and grumbled softly with a shadow of her old spunk, "Don't push it, Freud..."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The doorbell rang and the tea kettle began whistling at about the same time. Sydney motioned for Miss Parker to continue putting together the tea for their Chinese meal while he went to pay the deliveryman. What he was NOT prepared for, however, was returning to the kitchen with the food to be met by the sight of Miss Parker pulled as far back into the far corner of the kitchen as she could possibly get. Her face was utterly devoid of color and expression, with her eyes staring at nothing with a look of empty desperation and arms wrapped around herself tightly as she stood with her body pressed as far back into a corner as she could possibly make it go.   
  
He quickly placed the flat with the containers of food on the table and stepped toward his guest, frowning when he saw her flinch back hard at his movement. "Parker! What is it?!" When she didn't seem to hear him, he stepped close, and grasped her shoulders in his hands and shook her gently. "Parker! Come back to me."  
  
He shook her a little harder, and finally the emptiness in her eyes faded, leaving behind an abject terror. She began to shudder and shiver, and reached out of him frantically. Sydney quickly enfolded her tightly and held her while her shivering grew stronger and stronger. "For God's sake, Parker - what's wrong?!"  
  
"It was him," she whispered almost soundlessly. "It was him..."  
  
Sydney blinked, shocked into utter stillness, then exploded. "WHAT?"  
  
"His voice..."  
  
He set her away from him so he could smooth the hair from her face and hold her where he could see her. "Him who, Parker? Whose voice? Who are you talking about?"  
  
"The other guy... Not Lou..." Her voice was beginning to waver, and her legs threatened to not support her any longer. She sagged toward Sydney again, hiding her face on his shoulder.  
  
Sydney's arms tightened around her, and he held her close as he struggled to keep his burgeoning rage from blinding him to everything except chasing down and throttling the deliveryman who had just left - after he'd pounded him into a bloodied mess. When he led Miss Parker to a chair, seated her and then with the beginnings of a low and dangerous growl began to take off after the man, she clutched at his arms desperately and hung onto him for dear life. "No!! Sydney!! Don't leave me!!" she cried in terror.  
  
The words didn't penetrate his rage, but her tone of voice did. He looked down at her, again seeing her transparent pallor of terror, and controlled his violent urges with some difficulty. Instead, he reached out for his telephone and dialed a number from memory. "Jarod?" His voice was taut and curt.  
  
"Sydney?" The Pretender blinked. Sydney calling him at the police station wasn't a good sign. "What's happened?"  
  
"One of the men who attacked Miss Parker is a deliveryman for Ah Fong's Chinese Food," Sydney informed him grimly, the fist of his free hand clenching in rage. "We ordered Chinese delivered, and she nearly freaked out from the sound of his voice at the door."  
  
"She's certain?"  
  
Sydney looked over at her, sitting on her kitchen chair looking very small and very frightened. "I'd say so."  
  
"OK. Don't go anywhere or try to nail this guy, Sydney - let us hand that end of things. You just hold on, and I'll be there in a few minutes." Jarod forced himself to stay calm. "Is she still coherent? Do you think she'll be able to make any kind of statement..."  
  
"Not necessary. I have the tape you asked for," Sydney answered quietly. "We had a very long talk right after you left this morning. It's all there."  
  
"OK, Syd. See you in a few. Take care of her."  
  
Sydney hung up without saying goodbye, then moved to kneel next to Miss Parker's chair. "Jarod's on his way, Parker. He'll take care of things for us. You don't have to be afraid anymore. We'll have one of those bastards soon, and then we'll get the other one."  
  
Her grey eyes turned to his, tears running freely. "I don't think this is ever going to end," she moaned.  
  
He reached out for her and gathered her into his arms tenderly. "Yes, it is, sweetheart," he said reassuringly, "yes, it is!"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"This is Sydney."  
  
"Is it safe?"  
  
Sydney twitched aside the sheer curtains on his picture window, but was fairly certain that The Centre still had no idea that Jarod was going in and out of his house with a high degree of regularity lately. A cursory glance up and down the street confirmed his certainty. "It's safe," he confirmed and pushed the disconnect button on the handset.  
  
He heard Jarod come in the kitchen door, as he had all the other times, and went to the back of the house to greet his former protégé. "Well?" he demanded.  
  
"Both of them," Jarod said with equally grim satisfaction, plopping himself tiredly into a kitchen chair and gazing up at Sydney. "DNA trace evidence is in the works for the final confirmation, but Greg Dysler - your deliveryman - has already confessed and fingered another restaurant deliveryman - a Lou Folger - as his accomplice in the attacks." He saw Sydney's brows rise at the mention of the second man's name. "That confirms that part of Parker's statement, at least."  
  
"Will she have to come down and identify them?" Sydney asked as he sat down across the kitchen table from him, his brow furrowed in concern. "I've had to sedate her again, you know, so it may have to be a while..."  
  
Jarod nodded his head slowly and sadly. "I'll do what I can to make it a photo lineup rather than one where she has to look at the living, breathing monsters themselves. But if the DNA evidence matches up - and, for what its worth, Parker wasn't the only woman who was able to provide matching trace evidence to use for comparison - then once she identifies them, her part in this whole sordid thing will be pretty well finished. All that will remain will be her making a deposition - and with luck, that will be accepted in lieu of her having to take the stand and testify."  
  
"I don't think she'd handle having to appear as a witness very well," Sydney warned tiredly.  
  
"Well, I dusted Parker's residence for prints, and the unidentified prints from her house matched the unidentified prints from the homes of the other victims - and for what its worth, they aren't unidentified anymore. Some of them match Dysler and others match Folger. We've got 'em, Syd, dead to rights on the forensics alone. With luck, and with just a deposition left for her to face, all that's left her is the healing."  
  
"Good." Jarod had never heard Sydney's voice sound so cold. "It's a good thing that I didn't get anywhere near either of them. I think I'd kill them myself."  
  
"Believe me, I was tempted," the Pretender admitted. "But there were enough cops around when we nailed Dysler that I wouldn't have stood a chance doing anything - and I had no part of bringing in Folger." He sighed. "I do wish I had a chance to do a proper payback on those creeps, though." He looked up at his mentor. "I hope knowing they're behind bars now helps Parker work through some of the fears."  
  
"I'm sure it will go a long way towards it," Sydney nodded. "But the real healing will start when those two are sentenced and thrown into the hole they deserve permanently." The psychiatrist shook himself, freeing his thoughts from the dark and dangerous territory they'd been inhabiting since Miss Parker's stunning revelation. "How are the other victims doing?"  
  
Jarod's face was neutral. "There are still two who haven't regained consciousness. One had been kicked in the head hard enough to fracture her skull and give her a severe concussion, though, so it's possible that she may never wake up again. The other was given too much ether and not enough oxygen over an extended period of time and is practically brain-dead. That leaves those two still hospitalized, two or three with short-term amnesia, and four who were too drugged to remember anything. That's why the charges against these guys range from breaking and entering and vandalism to rape, conspiracy to commit rape, assault and battery, attempted murder and conspiracy to commit murder." Jarod rubbed his nose roughly with the back of one hand. "And Folger wasn't happy about coming in, so he has resisting arrest on his score sheet as well."  
  
"With that list, they won't be walking the streets anytime soon if ever," Sydney commented with grim satisfaction. "And I wouldn't imagine that you and I are the only friends or family members who'd like to get their hands around the throats of those two..."  
  
"Oh, no!" Jarod shook his head. "The hardest part of working with the police on this has been having to listen to the rage of the other fathers and brothers and husbands and sons and not be able to tell them 'I know what you mean, someone I love was harmed by these same animals.' I've bit my tongue often enough that it still hurts."  
  
Sydney blinked, then rose quickly and put the tea kettle on the stove to heat. "I'm forgetting my manners. Would you like some hot chocolate?"  
  
Jarod took a deep, cleansing breath and then smiled. "That would be a nice way to end this, wouldn't it?"  
  
"Where are you off to now?" the psychiatrist asked in mild curiosity as he began to accumulate mugs and chocolate and marshmallows.  
  
"Miami," Jarod chuckled darkly. "Now that Lyle is back from following the breadcrumbs I spread there, I can get back to finishing what I started."  
  
"When do you leave?"  
  
"Tomorrow morning, after I get a good night's rest," the younger man replied, watching the older man's reaction. "I'd stick around to tell Miss Parker the good news, but I'm a little time-constrained now."  
  
"I'll tell her," Sydney reassured him, then turned to pour the boiling water into the mugs and finish the drinks. He brought the mugs back to the table and sat down again. "I'm sure it will help."  
  
"Incidentally, there was a newspaper reporter at the jail when I signed out tonight; I'd imagine they'll have pictures of the accused on the front page of the Blue Cove Gazette tomorrow. You might let Miss Parker know - in case she either wants to avoid seeing them altogether OR wants to make sure that the right guys got caught."  
  
"Good idea." Sydney lifted his mug. "To friends helping friends."  
  
Jarod lifted his mug and clinked it against Sydney's gently. "To friends."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
It was nearly six o'clock in the evening when Sydney tapped gently on the glass of Miss Parker's office door and let himself in without waiting for expressed permission. She held up a restraining finger at him and spoke decisively into the phone: "No, You listen to ME. I'm telling you that Lyle just got back from nearly a week's worth of chasing shadows in Miami a few days ago. I'm telling you Jarod's not there, no matter what your witness thinks she saw. The Denver connection I was chasing down is by far a better lead. So you get a team over there ASAP, or I wouldn't want to be in your shoes." She listened to the voice on the other end with rolled eyes. "Whatever. Just DO it!" With that, she slammed down the phone, then peeked up into her old friend's face. "So, what do you think? How am I doing as the 'Ice Queen', Freud?"  
  
"Not bad," Sydney answered appreciatively, taking a seat on the couch near the window. "But then, you were always a natural..." He gave her a toothy grin when she blinked in surprise at the gentle teasing, but then his face grew serious again. "Did you see Dr. Armant today, like you were supposed to?"  
  
Miss Parker nodded. "She said I'm healing nicely, made sure that my bleeding lately was just my cycle and nothing more serious - but then turned around and took some more blood." She frowned at him. "Something about an HIV test."  
  
Sydney's face faded by about three shades. "HIV?"  
  
"The blood sample she drew at your place was to establish a baseline as pre-infection as possible," she informed him in a controlled voice. "She said she'd have the results of the preliminary HIV tests the courts ordered done on the... those... men... for me this evening along with my results from today's test. I gave her my office number, so I thought I'd stick around..." She looked at him with pleading grey eyes. "You don't think I could convince you to stick around with me?"  
  
He nodded. "I don't think you could get rid of me at the moment," he announced quietly. "After everything else, I intend to be right here in case you need a shoulder to lean on."  
  
"I appreciate that," she said, gratitude obvious in her voice, then she started as her phone began ringing. Sydney could see her hesitation in picking up the receiver, and her voice didn't quite have its normal bite to it yet. "What?"  
  
She listened carefully, and slowly her eyes filled with tears. "Alright. Thank you, Doctor..." She listened again as a tear escaped from lash to cheek, and Sydney stood and moved to her side to put a comforting hand on her shoulder. She leaned her head against his stomach briefly and closed her eyes as she felt him move his other hand to hold her head against him in an approximation of a quick embrace, and then she straightened again and spoke into the phone. "Yes, in six months. I've already made the appointment."   
  
Without saying goodbye, Miss Parker hung up the receiver with great care and then looked up into the face of the man who had become an essential part of her world. "The tests were all negative," she said in a breathy, shaky voice, then wiped the tear from her cheek. "She wants to see me in six months for a follow-up, just to make sure I'm still clear, but..."  
  
Sydney drew in a huge, relieved breath and let his hand find her shoulder again and squeeze it comfortingly. The mere thought of a life-threatening condition arising from that horror-filled night had just about turned his stomach inside-out as much if not worse than the thought of pregnancy had that horrible night, so he could imagine what she had been going through for most of the day. He gazed down at her very steadily. "Are you going to be alright, Parker?"  
  
She pushed her chair back from her desk, away from him, and then reached for the crutch she had been assigned from the Renewal wing when she'd had her torn muscle taken care of several days earlier, on her first day back at work. Rising, she nodded. "I think I'm going to head home, Syd," she announced firmly - as much for the surveillance cameras as anything else. "Walk me down to my car?"  
  
"Let me get my coat from the Sim Lab, and I'll be right with you," Sydney responded immediately. He hurried down the hall to fetch his garments and shut down the Lab for the day, then walked briskly back to where Miss Parker was waiting for him by the elevator doors. He felt her slip her hand into the crook of his arm, and glanced over at her face. The façade that had taken long hours to construct was showing signs of wear. "Tell me the truth - ARE you OK, Parker?"  
  
"I want to go HOME, Sydney," she responded in a voice too low for the cameras to pick up, and the psychiatrist knew that the 'home' she was speaking of this time was NOT the Parker summerhouse she had long since claimed as her official residence. "But I guess I'll have to make do at my own house instead, huh?" she continued even lower.  
  
"Do you want me to come with you?" he asked, understanding. One of Jarod's parting gifts to her before vanishing again had been to let her know that he'd cleaned up the summerhouse of all signs of break-in or violence, with the exception of replacing the glassware from her china cabinet that had been shattered. Still, two weeks later, Miss Parker hadn't had the strength to even visit her own house as yet. She had consistently chosen to instead let Sydney very quietly follow her to her driveway only to climb straight into his posh town car and let him drive her 'home' to his house for the evening. But today she had put her little suitcase into the back of his car and then transferred it to hers.   
  
The ruse that had allowed her to stay with Sydney for the past few evenings now even though she was working again wouldn't stand up to close scrutiny. Moreover, neither of them wanted the inevitable questions that would arise from the discovery of her relocated residence having any appearance of permanency. After all, appearances were everything at the Centre; she had to go to her own home eventually.  
  
"Would you mind?"   
  
"Of course not." He patted the hand in the crook of his arm as the elevator door swooshed open and then put up a restraining hand to the door so that she'd have plenty of time to enter before it tried to close too soon. He followed her into the car, then pushed the button for the garage. "Tired?"  
  
"No, nervous," she replied in a tight voice. "I'm glad you'll be with me."  
  
"There's a new alarm system installed for you now," he reminded her in a soft voice, hopefully too low for microphones to catch. Then he bent to her ear and whispered, "the code is your mother's birth date month and day."  
  
Miss Parker nodded. "That's not why I'm nervous," she replied.  
  
"I know." He knew he didn't need to say more than that. Those two words did more than just let her know he understood - they also told her very clearly that he was standing behind her in this latest recuperative effort, ready to catch her if she should falter, just as he always had been. They were words the surveillance cameras had caught them exchanging for years, yet no one at the Centre had ever truly understood the full depth of meaning or nuances those two tiny words expressed.  
  
She leaned into him subtly in the relative privacy of the elevator car and took very private and needed comfort from Sydney's physical proximity, knowing the camera angle wouldn't be able discern his doing more to hold her erect than the crutch actually was at the moment. Her psychiatrist colleague had been making a point of finding valid excuses to stop in to check on her every couple of hours or so every day since they'd decided she could no longer avoid work. The attention quietly reminded her that she was never too far away to call on his help if needed without making the same point to those who watched their every move. He had stayed visibly close, ostensibly to assist her when needed. They had also decided together that making public knowledge of her torn muscle and some of her other, less shocking injuries would render her staying quietly in her office seated behind her desk both reasonable and expected. With her cover story carefully prepared and delivered, she'd been able to handle one visit each from Lyle and Raines today from the relative safety of her desk without assistance. But the day, with its many trials and events and insecurities, had been wearing. Very wearing.  
  
As the elevator door swooshed open to the garage, she felt him slip his hand under her free elbow for extra support - a very publicly gallant and gentlemanly gesture that hid the deeper, private concern. "Thanks," she said softly, and let him help her to her car, then stow the crutch on the floorboard behind her driver's seat once she was settled. "See you there?"  
  
"I'm right behind you," he assured her, patting the fabric roof of her Boxter audibly as she started up the engine.  
  
She backed her car out of its spot as slowly as she dared while Sydney made his way to his town car, so that his following her would seem natural and unplanned. Once beyond the Centre's security gates, however, Miss Parker breathed a huge sigh of relief and fatigue. This evening's change of venue was the last major step in recreating a semblance of her former life, and the one she least looked forward to. Despite having been drugged to a near stupor, she knew what had happened on the floor of her living room - facing that spot, walking over and past it several times every day was not going to be easy or enjoyable.   
  
Sydney had managed to be directly behind her as she wound her way up her drive and parked in front of the house, and he was out of his car and holding the door for her as she clambered awkwardly to her feet and retrieved the crutch for support. "Sydney," she said suddenly, reaching out her free arm for him in a fit of fright.  
  
His arm wound around her waist. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" he asked her gently.   
  
"No," she answered shakily, "but I don't think I'll ever get any more ready."  
  
He let her set the pace up the walk and then helped her up the stone steps to the porch. She punched in the security code with fingers that shook slightly, then inserted the key in the lock and pushed the front door open. Rather than moving forward into the darkness of the house, however, she hung back and leaned against Sydney once more. His arm tightened about her waist. "I'm right here," he soothed. "You can do this."  
  
"God!" she breathed, then straightened up away from him again, reached in for the foyer light switch and took first one and then another slow step into the house. Her eyes found themselves glued to the spot that she figured she must have lay, and she didn't even hear Sydney close the door behind them.   
  
"Where did it happen?" he asked, having come close to her again and replaced his arm around her for both the physical and emotional support.  
  
She hesitated, then pointed. "There." There were signs that the hardwood she indicated had been scrubbed and refinished recently - most likely in order to remove the bloodstain she had left behind.  
  
Sydney stepped toward the spot and extended his hand to her. "Come here," he urged with a gentle voice. When she shook her head, he stretched out both hands. "Come here, Parker. Trust me - it will be alright."  
  
Trust. There was that word again. Miss Parker knew that Sydney must have a good reason to call her over to the one recognizable spot of horror, but she did trust him now, implicitly. Still, it took effort to move one foot in front of the other, but eventually she had joined her old friend in standing on the spot that had seen her brutalized only two short weeks earlier. She put both of her hands in his, as he seemed to want, and looked at him, puzzled.  
  
He held her hands gently in his and gazed evenly at her for a long moment. Then he suddenly let go of one hand and reached up, cupped her cheek in his palm, and then leaned forward slightly to drop first one very soft kiss on the other cheek, and then another on her forehead. And just as she was beginning to frown, wondering what he was up to, he suddenly spread his arms wide, dropped her other hand in the process and then stepped back and away from her with an encompassing gesture.   
  
"Take a good look at yourself, Parker," Sydney's voice washed over her like a warm, calm wave. "You're back. You're on your feet. Your body is healing and your mind and heart are still sound. And those men? They're rotting in a jail cell and will be for the rest of their lives." He took her hand again carefully. "Think about it, Parker. You will heal, and you'll be as strong and independent as you ever were. Those animals will never be free again. They didn't win; they lost. You've won. Remember that, Parker, every time you start to feel afraid or insecure because of what happened here. They're behind bars, and you're healing. You won." He pointed down with his other hand and directed her eyes to the newly waxed woodwork beneath her feet. "Remember. This isn't the place where they took everything away from you; this is where they made their biggest mistake that ultimately cost them everything. This is the place where your victory began; it isn't a place to be avoided or feared anymore."  
  
Miss Parker gazed at her friend - her beloved surrogate father - and in that moment understood fully the nature of the strength that he was working so hard to hand back to her as best he could. He was giving her back her life, freeing her as much as he could from her fears, from her nightmares, and even from needing him for support so desperately. But she knew she would need him again as time passed - it had taken her too many years and too much pain to find him in the first place.   
  
Her eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Sydney."  
  
His chestnut eyes grew warm. "Welcome home, Miss Parker."  
  
  
Feedback, please: mbumpus_99@hotmail.com 


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